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The Hum Of The Broken SoulI act as your warrior,
Guarding your life as if it's my own,
However you have wondered too deep into shadows road,
I must let go before you drag me down,
So I sit here as I watch them take you,
Down the fiery pit of hell,
I will forever hum the tune of your broken soul.
When Fear Comes Out To PlayDown the narrow road,
We must stay down low,
We must blend with the Earth,,
We mustn't be spotted by the retched crow,
If so the alarm will be given,
To those blood thirsty creatures,
That hunt us down,
Like the animals we are,
We are safe during the day,
But are vulnerable when the stares,
Come out to play,
They can smell us miles away,
Our fear lingers in the air,
But this seems familiar,
But normally we are the predator,
Hunting down our pray,
And let our dogs fetch them as they lay,
People knew this day would come,
People knew karma would bite us back,
For the feelings we lack,
And take the soulless human being.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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