The End Of Art Has Come, It Seems, No Longer Do We Feel The Fire In Our Dreams; We Look Upon The Canvas And See Only Empty Chance, A Bleak Void, A Lack Of Glee; The Muse Has Fled, But Fear Not For All Is Not Lost, There Is Still A Spark To Find New Meanings In The Stories Ais Are Weaving For Us
(gift given)
by Wings Of An Angel