End Of Time

End Of Time End of Time I cannot contain wind a way around, Searching high only when dropping low, Fighting where the soul wont go. In the world, a crooked ghost, Hoping for his bad most, Tears away the gilded views, As golden dreams atomic number 18 shatte sanguine too. The ghosts tell stories of every who came - Dead, alive, blind, and lame. What he said I did not like, An un temporal pass around will destroy the night, cleanup position all with blamed might. Down the tunnel of the soul, Broken finger cymbals and blackened declension Consume the land and all who roam, splitting apart these earthly places As the tears run from their faces.

Their faces atomic number 18 bruised and blackened beat, fell scourged From the heat. Gnashing teeth and thrashing claws, Ripping the children with their paws. The eye are red and soaked with pain. No hope, all lost, nada remains. The worlds are turned, amidst, betwixt, Mans positions are surely switched - The blind can suck up the shado...If you sine qua non to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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