How many more?
Have we not enough?
Hundreds of thousands of words,
pouring through our lips,
to the tips of our fingers.
On pristine white papers,
written in blood, in limbs torn apart.
How many more?
How many more?
Have we not enough?
Hundreds of thousands of words,
pouring through our lips,
to the tips of our fingers.
On pristine white papers,
written in blood, in limbs torn apart.
How many more?

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