THE DREAM WARRIORS

It starts in visual studio to the dream
The beats of the warriors sound
As a thunderstorm on the rock of the top.
This is a sign of the great battles in the field of life.

In a nightmare the arms was given
Later in the day the prophecies was brought to the heart of the warlords.
The warlocks in the next night as a wedding night.
The hunter lonely searched for Invaders on only one yard white wrapper.

The warlords dead to the dream of wars, while the butties of the war remain. Their children must leave a legacy not as their forefathers lost in a wayward war.
The curses fade to the great warriors.

I am never being a laughter to the dreams of a white mansion, but the history most never repeat the dreams again like wars to whom who gave a war, the grudges to those kindle it's.

The film of the family has been attached to the bloody war in the dreamscape. The winning windows lay on the bloody lullabia.
Give a doll to the kids, give a day to be kind.

A day off among the day the battles will be windwin, the worries will be words away, the pains and poverties will be pulled away like a discarded clothes. A day was a day we left the wombs.

The birth of the battles like a kindle of the a candle, fire never knows a kindler. The first milk of mothers breast quenched the thirst of the hours of the earliest breathings. The truma of laboured mothers make her milking.

The traps never killed ants, it is a work of relative coefficy. The battles of blood relatia are less in moded chances, the singled warried room of the fathers and children, the solo and chorus, the doers and safetiers.

Who is there to filter warm water from cold water, to separate hatred out of the blood of love, to show the enviers and enemies in a seeing, to mark out those dispaced, hooked and displaced by the ties of their heaven.

Crying and tearing they are nearest to wap of with their long and sharped fingernails as a soft cotton. Thier mouth blow a cooling wind as they scratch. The wounds feel at end of the drama dreams.

The hungry of a warrior is just as a dog waooing the invaliders of the home. Speak of the angers which not numbered on the angels of the peace, the piets speak on the poetry lexs in a stage.

Do never dig a dungom for your enemies, bear in mind of a friend fall on, bear in mind of self fall on, think of your favorite foods may be dished there for the mealtime, to eat may not easy.

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