Born of wasted wanting, borne upon rivers of doubtful depths and devious departures from the modern myth that the ocean is the only one who wants the river's mouth upon it's breast. The beasts they beat their chests, bloody their teeth, and muddy their feet in a timeless dance that entrances and encircles us all. They will ask no questions and need no answers when the walls fall. When the banks run dry and the rivers run high. When the crystal ball shatters, sending endless waves of misled minions wandering into the wastes, clinging onto lead lifeboats, drowning in a sea of blood. They will need no answers.Myspace Layouts
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