Grab my ears and haul them, cut them away. Smother the burning liquid spirit of music, save me from the hypnotic suppression of livid vibrations, the delirious hallucinations of alien cosmic composers. Let them spew any wretched sound that they want, yet shield me in your void. The end is unwritten, the end is mine. I stand against the telekinesis of fate, as the echolocators skulk and scan the space. Inside the bunkers of the moon, where stardust wafts out around the shrapnel shells, let the war be mute.
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