An afterlife without tomorrow, the harpy cries, freed from all worries, I am ready. Flames call my body. A unicorn in the wind.
I feel eternity in which time never passes.
I look into the abyss. The black depth calls me.
The angel's wings are sore. This is how I die.
I fly into the abyss. The black depth has me.
The angel's wings are sore. This is how I die.
Absinthe blows into the brain. I drift drunk,
into endless spheres, lost in my self.

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