My dear prisoned red flow of beneath whispers to me like morning sun light.
I am ambrosia.
And disinherited glass caves of life sealed in the I child of the cold.
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
My dear prisoned red flow of beneath whispers to me like morning sun light.
I am ambrosia.
And disinherited glass caves of life sealed in the I child of the cold.