On a twilight winter night
Voyaged on a no-man land.
As the wind cut through me
Like sand papers and razors,
Unknowing the unknown, I stand
Gazing the moon and the stars.
As the clock sold me sands
For my hour glass.
As the ghost hungered for revenge,
I see a sight of the moon,
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Teakwood Leathers Men Black Belts
Ready for a flight.
Seated on the wingless bird,
The moon radiated silenced bliss.
As the wings of feared men
Pushed the moon forward,
The stars cried tears of joy
As the moon captured freedom.
The caricature of stardom moon,
Burnt right in front of mine eyes.
But the true joy
Had been brought
By this miraculous sight.
As the clock travelled far lands,
The hourglass completed its duty,
As I died while gazing the-
- Flight of the moon.
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