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My mind produces images, false statements like silver and cold, lifeless salvation,
Until the end i will lie awake in my grave, a distinctive color, a citadel of black
Angels scream its all a dream that insanity comes with misery why can't we enjoy our demons?
Who was it that once said the living are as lifeless as the dead
I have owned these eyes forever and now that they rot inside my skull i can see almost clearly,
this is my paradise
we will drink blood from the rosary so that we can perceive our insanity. "insanitize my eyes wash them out with blood and tears" we are just what the goddess fears, we are redemption. We are the blood painters.
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