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Mon, Sep. 30th, 2013, 01:39 pm
The Tree Line

In the mountains, above the trees
Cold sun thin air where
It's hard to breathe
Theres no people around me here
only Things
And they don't care they can't see
So I start to think, maybe
If I take my sword and make them bleed
They will give me what they shouldn't keep
What they have sewn now I shall reap
Though I have my hood nobody shall I keep
Along too long with me because
At my feet the rocks are cold, but at the core they're burning