In the agony of blue, the moon forges to Red.
The darkness is surprised, what aileth her tonight that rose her anguish.
The tides raise more than ever, sailors are terrified what aileth ocean of hopes tonight.
Thy mankind's pride of usury won't save them tonight, gliding in their illusion of dark fables which kindle their conceited bodies.
How astonishing is nature and thy consequences, the Moon is gloom but not shy, yet the Ocean never stops to urge for her. thou they never meet and will never meet, yet they never stop.
Mankind wants to purge what hinders them, even Skits their grey hair by mud. Where ever thy steps annihilate the surroundings. Yet you call your self most intellect.
I wonder the moon never fell with her promise to met his beloved. The tides never hasten or lack to urge but purge thyself.
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