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when the Death whispering lowly
she would sing
of my strange language
All I know is
there is not a word of fear
there is not a word of sorrow
All I know is
she raises the hand
the sword to puncture the enemy
I will be the wind wreathing the sword
Body is still hot , But he have died
有 2 位朋友喜欢这篇文章:Na'noa, shiningdracon
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噗……咳咳…大概我是悶騷型的把
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