Lyrics
The winds blow quietly and gently. Round and round they go, never stopping, until the reach the garage of Justin Borgwart. Here the winds are afraid to enter, for the sound of pulsing black beats mortifies them. However, the winds' death brings life once again to melody (hopefully)praising its creator. As for the youth wishing for greatness, maybe he will find it, maybe not. As long as his music is not set upon a highest pedestal. Then he would become like Bablyon, ground into the dust never to return. To finish, even though your sins are like scarlet, they shall become as white as snow. The snow falls hard upon the thirsty ground, to cover the eternal bloodstains...
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