From the surface,
these faces look disfigured.
Crisscrossed from time and back again.
This cannot be the end. Under salvation from the burning sun.
We can dream paradise, but cannot sell Babylon.
I beg for a different quest,
to sell my soul is the cause of death.
The demons may come in numbers, but remain silent to the blow of the last trumpet.
Wake up!
The hardest thing in life, is teaching those who are drowning, to swim.
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