Fallen angels do not wait for operations of justice hell being too eager with impetuous desire liquid with fire an ignitability that is sticky and buoyant burning with sensitivities intrigues and scepticism. It grows and grows every feather a blue hotel a flog for the marring a phantom ship a mouldering heap - Leaps at tens whenever heaven condescends takes to heart, but - Descants untoward with defensive measures boning up on its celestial treasures ? Stubborn and tragic the sympathies of magic populate the heart raises hell to a lost art.
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