the breath of the cauldron,
the only one that can be saved,
once was it fresh,
now it is warming up to be sane,
the energy will meet the soul,
only will it lust,
with the personal spirit,
will it entrust,
so only will this certain life will the face crush,
let one rise from the ruby and the fresh plot,
man is one of hire but i am not,
pale is the color of fresh,
my color is not,
shrug our soul and i must nod,
your not of any worth unless you journey with in the loft.
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