This isn't last month's paper with the value lost, or the people we've said goodbye to with no lesson taught. And years slide away with similar themes
primal when the final hour emerges Procrastinate and wait until the last minute My ass is in it, to win, for an infinite Number of light years as I fight
home anymore While Mima showed the final war Her circuits bled and fried, seems she too will die She couldn't bear to see what will be Our haven's dying
