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(Of bits and bites...)
Within these dark crevices,
An old music strikes a replay note,
On the chords of pain.
Hostile troops seethes through the narrow crevices,
Of bits and bytes,
Sauntering deeper into the darkest region,
With playbacks of red-slaughter-
Where dreams of Dreams,
Dreams dreams of horrific conviction,
And bodies upon bodies stinks acrid sickness.
When the crevices,
Becomes stricken by venoms from the mist of time,
Dreary and grimly,
To become slaves to the days of yore.
Of unfair sentences.
Whose armed forces
Razes the rampart of time,
To uncover wounds,
In broken images of broken vows and broken ties.
Never to be forgotten,
When our memories,
That bites our soul.
El Magnifico el est Magico!