The sweet singing
The sweet wind
The sweetness of this land is a joyful place
But it shall not continue this way
The sound will halt to sound
The wind will cease becoming silent
And darkness shall fallow this depression of the land
But one will stand against all odds
This one will create noise
This one will course the wind to scream out loud in its agony which it has lived in silence
The sun will come out from its unending eclipse
The wakes of hell will be reborn into a heaven
And joy will be restored until the sound ceases to sound once more and return to hell.
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