Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Dryad and Naiad

Murder and men on fire; I have seen the eyes of living dead. They paint you with light, capture you at the point of your own death and here we see you like a ghost in a ludicrous repetition of the inexcusable mistakes made by all of us. They tumble bombs into your villages and make you run into the arms of either America or the revolutionary. What do you think happens?

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