The comanche comes silently in the dead of night. She brings retribution from afar. Her untamed and aggressive discipline, for the whole of humanity. Through the quiet air of sleeplessness, she moves without sound. She flies in the darkness, like a bat out of hell.
From ancient underground passages, beneath the oceans of rage. She is the sorceress of absolute truth. With a gleam of the moon deep in her eyes of madness. Her dark blood drips upon the world of shame. Venomous vipers strike society dead, for violating the innocent and peaceful. All transgressors must pay dearly, for what they have done in life.
You were born in the daytime. And we were born of the darkest night of thunder. The two will never meet. Not even when we move through your world of daylight. It is still midnight, on the otherside of this cold dark winter mirror. But we are bringing the fruits of your worldly labours. The fruits of disease and pestilence. We are wearing Halloween suits forever. As silence makes her defiance known. You wake up, and the world you loved has changed for good.
We are the ancient passages beneath the ocean floors. The dark mirrors that see three ways into your earth. The only beings that deserve protection from the aftermath, will be the serious and profound. Even when our shadows awaken. You will never speak evil minded about us again.
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