A tyranny awaits, based on the past...
To assemble fates, translate to caste.
Will this, burden our hopes, and confuse the future?
As if, we're puppets on ropes, stitched in time to our sutures?
Cut the strings!
Cut, the strings even if we bleed.
Break, cyclical rings based on need.
Now, you can't feel this control.
Isn't this, the desire of the free soul?
In a seven year cycle:
Nothing is coincidence, when you repeat the trial of a time-tracked defense.
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