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Vanguard Battle Hymn

Sundown on Indian Summer. The bending light is breaking. The sound is living and breathing. Swift as clouds and other forms so fleeting. A Devil hand upon me to do his bidding. When the front line gave we retreated into the caves. Living in darkness and whispers. No comforting forms before my eyes. Dreaming of the green earth from my blackspace. To the thunder snow sky...

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