Song to the Phantoms

December 8, 2009
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Burning twilight tainted of purple clouds
From which is bursting the soft howl
Of this strange panicking paradise

you are a small bunny baby who’s chest is wide open and his heart is cold
Living , well surviving in a wooden bungalow next to a circus
Protecting your cowboy brother, doesn’t mean you’re the father
Walking bare chest with your long sparkling hair, Golden guy your soul like a windmill
Run away to find back the shack in the wood
Four head monster sleeping in a magic cave you will be burry in the mud
Cannibal daughter. Pain is a her river.





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