Perished with the Thirst at Drying Fount of Maternity

In the time of My creation, life was simple, it was Brown And sparks And dust. Creation, But it became a nightmare. Now this generation of masses is Gone. Finally, a stable succession, The external death ourselves. With a fault of creativity, the Leap from lust to lust, hesitate. Once we. Decline. The flesh. Fight the past. Now all mother eternity held into stone, Time arrow from stone, eternity is enough, My child. Don't, don't, don't, don't, don't, Don't, don't trust what they tell you. All this will have no exception. In all matter, eternity Is sound, right? And first dimension. With a fault of Creativity And the lust to lust, hesitate. Once we decline. The flesh fight The past.