the echo fit

witchcraft

witchcraft

echo

ECHO

echo

There are echoes in the garden | Lava laden pavements Stars with stains and the heaven and afterglow Beneath the ashes our echoes are buried alive They are howling through hollows Once we've shared their temple of halls Now our heads are hung up on walls We are ruins within ruins On every corner a gladiator is begging for another century When no one cut your tongue to know nothing and to know it all To be both the animal and god

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