You are constellations, and you are breaths that swirl in cold times
and you are the music that thrums across my pulse late at night


parisgellrs:

Demons run when a good man goes to war. Night will fall and drown the sun, when a good man goes to war. Friendship dies and true love lies, night will fall and dark will rise, when a good man goes to war. Demons run but count the cost. The battle’s won but the child is lost.
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    Because the only water in the forrest is the River
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