The coast is clear again.
The subtle arbitration of dying moods beseeched the cold, stern, cataclysmic inclinations of the courageous and beautiful women of midnight's squalor.
My eyes open,
Yet still ignorant of the coming storm.
My heart broken, yet still beating.
Come to me
Tell me earth is still worth savings
Convince me not to press the button.
Her warm smile melted my cold heart
The planet was indeed worth saving.
God bless the drunken night
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