The night is blue and the crescent is red…

Those that stalk are bound to be dead.

The curse of heavens loom large,

Surges high as the nerves whisper in the head…

The gait does the commotion…

The eyes train the guns,

The hair locks opened and much more is said…

Silence creeps, the tongue stays composed;

The gusto is such that the brain is exposed.

Those kitty bows black a...

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