White ice towers, slow dissolving
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Now fall.
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Below savage moon
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Iron cities soon to rust.
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Warned first by the gathering shadows
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They fled.
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From wide vapour deserts
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They turned turned towards the sea.
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Pale worn the walking, pass
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Through concrete glades.
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Torn shadows, slashed silence, AHHH.
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-----------------
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PARACHUTE
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Pretty Things |