

Welded CrossImprisoned again on the welded cross. Grass withers and crumbles under the searing light of salvation. The sword of the fallen angels is lost.Welded Cross
The forgotten scrap metal on the road, once covered with frost, The only thing to forge a rusted rood of industrialization. Imprisoned again on the welded cross.
No more shall poppies spring red on the fields of moss. The salt from the seas flowed forth to drown all creation. The sword of the fallen angels is lost.
The gold rods turn iron, ductile metal is tossed, And I’m left to hang here, crucified in wired fashion. &nbs


'Beginning also End' -by RavenWhere was the start of this all? when did the cruel wheels of fate begin to turn; our stars begin to fall?'Beginning also End' -by Raven
Perhaps it is impossible to call one point the beginning, another end. But we’ll never learn… where was the start of this all?
Somewhere, in time beyond recall for eternity; infinity, for never-time, now turn: our stars begin to fall!
For a certainty, back then, the hate settled as a pall upon the land, damned eternally to pain; to burn. Where was the start of this all?
Then, we loved so many, hated so much; now we fall. As we hated
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