Faint crackling sounds of her spirit speaks aloud in versus as ancient as this original sin
The Cabrini tickles the back of our throats still coated in dry Merlot with a hint of oak turning tasteless
With less muscles used to frown your resolve than to convince you of the danger you're in
A romantic thief turned rabid beast, a once future queen molded into this pale empress
Let the pain lead you astray safe from harms way, slow and steady as to not burn away such fragile joints
A misplaced sense of passion clouded by misunderstanding completely missing the point
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