LYRIC

I wake to see
The bastard children thrivning
The plight
Your burden
The Scourge abiding
No matter what the conseqence
I have only knives for you
I will be your storm
The strike you never knew
You litte man
No willful melancholy
No matter how you plead
This wind to right you folly
Crushing worlds in front of you
Gushing through the trial
I am the wind
I am the storm wyou’ll always flee
Find you there
Where the sun smote
Storm cleansing all away

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