I'll think of something
My mind

The Witching HourWhen some are sleeping and others are dying When girls are sighing and boys are diving When the innocent are rare and the wicked arrive, So does my mind wonder, over the truth it seems. Conversations are had Stories are told Drinks are poured and the tale unfolds. Stories of new Stories of old, Where women weep and men are cold. Life lingers here and there, Death comes out to play. Thoughts are formed and written down, Or lost to the night and the day. Words are formed and some are spoken Yet there is always something left un-broken A hidden kiss,The Witching Hour
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Oh my God, it's been so long! How are you? Glad to see you're back.
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This crowd's not ready for Slayer...
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Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
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This crowd's not ready for Slayer...
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