4С 41.17
08-10-2007 08:48
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Let us sing or shout
Of the times when we could fly...
Souls melt under the glass
Even the air is frozen
And here we stand, on the ruins
A monolith, a memorial to the time,
the greatest knowledge
Lies broken and defiled...
4C 41.17
The last harbour for our past
And so we bury your fate...
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