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Everything flows. Not even time itself can escape.
Like a boat at the mercy of a mighty river, all are swallowed in the end.
Oh, heartless nature of transience.
Yet I will love the heartlessness and transience deeply.
 
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The world of the decadent is ethernal. The trumpets must blare and bring the moment of judgement.
 
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Darkness of ice, sprit of snow, lend me your breath.
Freeze them to silence deeper than death.
 
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