War With The Countess Poem by Daegonius Bonapartea

War with the Countess: Misseth thy countess, as I flow, as the rivers split cometh my soundless. Drops of pain, connection thy rain as he calls ya shamballa rises this way; rises rises, the doors close though arose the demises. Calleth does king the royal servants, ring doth the birds, as they gather the reefs to chain the thirds. The thirds Oh the thirds. Calleth does he, 'goeth u warriors disperse disperse the grounds belie, round nay after round, as the cells make movement quickly likened to the veins be they bound. Released lions and cattle, one of the other, the laymens forbearer lions claw kilt thy mother when horns to cling and clots to brink brink the fields with soulless bodies visibility now invisible to earth they sink.