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suddenly the tide has turned
the mystic rhythm I had learned
is flailing like a bird at sea
the shores are distant
I am lost in me

the wind is  howling like a lonely dog
they make their way through the mountain fog
fallen creatures claim their place
collecting loyals for the master race

I hear the whispers
as I awake
it is my soul
they are here to take
as long as Sun
does break the night
as long as
I shall wake to light
I will not succumb to Satan's rule
I will not become his loyal fool
oldie - just a simple metaphor for the deep state

— The End —