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I see the ruins languishing in loneliness You won't be killed by a blazing thunder But you'll die under your own weight And earth won't acceot The suicidal human tomb But will spit on its bones Greato hour. An hour of creation And no prohet will pluck up his courage To call us in grief and fear Implant the power of inspiration In the new shapes Make use of your strength Thus your own thoughts And be aware that hard days are coming I give the weak a look of contempt... The suicidal human tomb But will spit on its bones... From Letras Mania