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Chattering in the shadows- can you read the lips that mutter
Can you -even by the stiffled speeches- hear their voices flutter
Yes, they flutter past the mountainrange and slither across the sea
Outlasting roaches in the murmer of their omonous monody

Oh yes! I see them and I know them and I hear them rather well
I even speculate (in madness) if a breath of mine should tell
How they compell my mind to dwell the shrine in which I spawn my thought
And contemplate the puroses- Ah, the reason, to them, I have sought

Be what they, demons? Are they demons sent from where no light streams through?
Or are they ghouls who haunt my visions with the memory of you
The coldest phantomes, oldest phantomes touch my heart; it turns to ice
Oh I would pay you, satan to forget this Hell; define the price





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