The Machine In The Garden primevil

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reaching toward empyrean
abode of paradise above
ignorant in life, innocent in death
the ones who took to dreaming
you can find them waiting
in a realm of fire, ambit of light
emblazoned in their minds
an elegy of fright
are eyes like stars burning bright
like pinholes in the sky
and how far can they see
elusive faces turning white
hidden faces in the dark
lie in the fear of secrets
afraid of surprise, superstition cries
words that deny their feelings
gone without a whisper
in the shelter of the ground
bodies curl like broken molds
disappear without a sound
are eyes like stars burning bright
like pinholes in the sky
and how far can they see
elusive faces turning white
descend from flurries in the clouds
the captives in the ground

INVIA LE CORREZIONI