The storm, strips its bleeding wounds
And drinks it in the sky lanterns
From the most ancient crane
Scattered from the light through bridges
And the horizons of the abyss
Slope on A structure
Made of fragments of hair and misfortune!
And the abortion of a tempestuous tempest
And drinks it in the sky lanterns
From the most ancient crane
Scattered from the light through bridges
And the horizons of the abyss
Slope on A structure
Made of fragments of hair and misfortune!
And the abortion of a tempestuous tempest
( Erragal )
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