Dead, they become the dust of the slums;
Alive, they are the embodiment of their cities;
Rushing across, frantic, limbs waving, they scream to the heavens…
Seeking what should not be, to be.
Moui.Net – Written from the Heart
Time is so long, Life is so short
Dead, they become the dust of the slums;
Alive, they are the embodiment of their cities;
Rushing across, frantic, limbs waving, they scream to the heavens…
Seeking what should not be, to be.
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