Crimea River, IV. The Battle

Hypothetically lost
We fight to the death
Defending what's ours
Running what's left
The community is lost
The river in its sorrow bleeds
Running with blood
Running in vein
But within the mouth
Of our own self-indulgence
Mainly shifting the context
At main

Harf-Ord-On-Lenn
The king of them
The one who kills
The one who steals
The life away from us
The one with hypothetical thoughts
Hypothetical beliefs
Hypothetical constructs
Of the mind, body, and soul
Dragging us through the mud
Towards a hypothetical reality
Designed by the hateful greed of this disgrace



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