Robot Like Alsace And Axes In Windows.

The headsman's ax chops into the orcs eyebrow, singing in air.
The way of life.
Come feel the coolness, Trickling down.
Within the weeds blowing, blowing in the evergreen forest, it cawing loud.
Trance waves dancing like fireflies, Buzzing out in many deaths.
One would like to think they may check, to see who wrecked their liver,
Willing to suffer some temporary pain, being worth more than happy to finance my daughter's own execution.
Just with sleeping schedules out of sink.
She was Elle who had it all.
Behold the saber that cut through the windows, it knows not a light or a sweet calming Goodnight.
Yet for me I wish not to better ourselves, for others.
The languages split, between the young and hung, who treat each other as shits.
I have no love for Paris, my heart is in Alsace.