
A sea ahead of me, the wind blows, fragile is the hand that feeds, my seed grows, left inside the wicked vice, I throw and too, let the fate that beholds me, not end the left of man, a woven tale, broken, stale, I was, but yet I am…





A sea ahead of me, the wind blows, fragile is the hand that feeds, my seed grows, left inside the wicked vice, I throw and too, let the fate that beholds me, not end the left of man, a woven tale, broken, stale, I was, but yet I am…



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