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Constant Wars

Tiny-Y-Son
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crumble as if there were no tomorrow preparing the farewell they are slaves to their graves at the edge of the battlefield bury all the sights make all the monsters come down tonight bury all the sights make all the monsters come home tonight I am fine won't scream out loud the pillbox transmiting new orders and the ones claim to follow waiting for miracles these constant wars tipple my will to bury the hatchet