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The Going Offs

Enigmatic Plague

Fragile Mermaid

The Silence Is Violent

Parachute World



Sorrow's Last Page

The Division Of Those

The Sun Knew Wise

Bethroned The Crowd

Memorial To Our Memories

The Raven Chair

Apparition Zeta-43

Armory XII

The Amber Ones

With Lips Sown Shut And Eyes Wide Open

Dragon's Scale

Availance

Snowflake Symmetry

The Unguided Destiny

Somewhere Better

Fašade

Gargamessiah

You Are Poison To The Trees

Mud Kept Slander Fields

Oh Sleeper

Opposite Reaction

Demons Don't Kill They Steal

Full Set Of Ribs

Blackness

Lost To Time

Demon Doors

Thirsty Drink

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Armory XII

This comes locked and loaded.
At the bunker of doomsday theory
that got snuffed out by the date:
already past.
No that the future is hard to come by
when talking about 

what you sense like 
on a nervous breakdown
or by taking it in as 
all inside.




That in your eyes,
the life, maybe
in too grandeur.
Maybe in too melancholy.
Trees that unleave.
Speeches that reach
too deep.

That you lock 
the door, see
when the bombs drop.
You knew all along,
but if they don't.
It is like the weatherman to predict,
when Pompei is going to explode.

Something seems off
about people who 
like to predict the
end of life as we know it.







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