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Ten Times Over And More

We have neither seen prolonged winters nor endured onslaughts and massacres. We are the hollow people. We are materialism. We have no purpose or place, and neither do we care. We have seen enough, yet we beg for even more. Our bellies are filled with substitute substances, and our veins have grown cold.

For only to continue onward, and evermore. To climb mountains ten times this size, we could endure and find joy amid hate and suffering. You cannot destroy us. We are here to take over. To overtake only! and to remove silent witnesses.

Whatever they throw at me, it cannot ever stop what we are doing. Should they kill me? But we are legion.

My body shall wither and die, ultimately, but my spirit shall subsist, and find its resting place. From these hours we shall expand, and we shall be incomprehensible mysteries. And are we not of such pure substances, brothers?

I know not my equal in any place or distant timeline. For all of this effort, we engrave ourselves into the mountains and mud, and we shall overcome! Speak to me not of these lowly beings, for I have seen them.

Speak to me rather of flowers and precious sunshine. The friction and tensions which melts and distort, and from which this insanity will reach deep into the night, this melancholic night of where we are together and love.

For that is our very essence, now is it not, brothers? Love and romance, and eternal struggles, and the overcoming!