heathen colors - atlases lyrics
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a ghost of peril
cold mire unwind
the weigh of dusk upon
aligned as pale birds
whirling with no sound
the sound is dusk, coiled in us
a catalyst of scars
myriad ways of collapsing
within aeons
throughout absence
to inhale the heathen colors
austere tides
i am the breather of storms
buried in our dissent
an ethereal road we’d create
to scatter the ashes
as the anthem of cold
separates us from solace
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