On The Eve Of The Grimly Inventive

Soar with you, soar in vigour. Washed with an old vessel, smashed, surging up to The Andromeda to cascade down on the architecture... easily visible at the glacier even. A path was found, a way to the lungs of an overwhelming all-conquering orchestra.

A hall of unearthly woodwind spews down from the Master. My angel beats her wings in the void of his garden. The waves clash up forming a sculpture of a renaissance, this being the eye of the gallant and the grimly inventive.

Summoning.

Suddenly an essence clasps me that I have yet never felt. Sickening things that were hybrid and hostile, breeding in our gardens. Things that would walk from the carvings in amber, prey on the things without wings that were burnt in the ashes of Herjned, the settlements of the lords...

And as the climatic pages of a classic novel are blown across the water at the Lake Geneva a masterpiece is now lost in their minds forever. Now let a marble fist descend and smash the earth; bring forth lesbian ghosts, let us slip and romp through the snow whilst being watched by the scholars of old, recording our movements for people to come.

Washed in with an old vessel, smashed, surging up to The Andromeda to cascade down on the architecture... easily visible at the glacier even. A path was found, a way to the lungs of an overwhelming orchestra. On the eve of the grimly inventive. Rushing to me the history of a unique spectre-full hour.