in the time of my confession in the hour of my deepest need when the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed there's a dying voice within me reaching out somewhere toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair
don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake like cain i now behold this chain of events that i must break in the fury of the moment i can see the master's hand in every leaf that trembles in every grain of sand
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