Traditionally unsound
Neither liberal, nor conservative
Hostile environments consume generations.
Lovers, part slowly...
For it is not you who shall recieve this gift
Or the humble guest lurking in the shade
Tis' the lively one, with all those dreams and visions
Truths, lies, just a few of many
Death upon the sand?
Life among the stars?
A little of both?
Was never an option...
For in the end, not now or then, but when,
The time arives, you shall bow
Before your new found strength and weakness
It is I, whom survives on your fears
Your henious actions, your fruitful lies
Which you feed by word of mouth
Without creating a sound
And it is you, who falls beneath my heel
In the end,
It is all a game
And in more general terms,
I'm not putting you under peer pressure....
But it's your turn....
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