| Enchantresses melodies pouring form their honeytongued throats.
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| Dancing with satyrs to the rhythm of hypnotizing tunes.
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| All the woodlands fell under the charm of these minstrel sirens.
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| A peaceful idyllic banquet on a melancholy spring evening…
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| Faster than thunders, the three fly to their prey,
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| all these pure targets soon to be butchered…
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| snake eyes wide open, the bringhtness of misery and pain
|
| oh. |
| Pathetic sylvan creatures. |
| Try to hum with panpipe in your stomach.
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| The skull smashed… The inspiration never flashes anymore.
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| beheaded hydriades and eviscerated potameides.
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| Your neck so easy to dislocate. |
| Your spine so delectable to extirpate…
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| Our desire of massacre strengthnes our mighty claws.
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| Henceforth soothsayers will predict their oracles in bloodstreams.
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| Equilibrium annihilated and purity slaughtered
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| species sink to their decline. |
| loss finally comes…
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| Purity slaughtered.
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| Nightflying legions left the altar of executions.
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| Apokalyptyk strength of hellfire…
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| blackwinged archangles of desrtuction abandoned
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| the fantastic jigsaw of dismembered nymphs.
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| Melodies so bewitching form severed throats
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| are just laments of an atrocious agony…
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| Amputated and eviscerated,
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| the satyrs have forever ended their ceremonial acts… |