the pull of the waves. The pull of the waves; the natural decay of all that is made is how redemption is paid. Say Dickinson, who do you blame for your
asked me what difference One can make, one day. For we're the moss; the Earth -- the stone, so let us do as did the Tree. For silence will long be ignored
mechanized slaughter. The Sentient flaunted their machinist superiority -- an ersatz compensation for real instincts lost. Millenia of ancestry, polwed down for
sliced in half and the dividing line approaches. For ever stand turned wonderland, for every sound turned song, for every song turned experience, for