We swallow of the black dust.
Like the black crows.
Under ourselves.
We evade from bullets.
Enemies will be slaves.
And we establish rules.
We take off into the sky.
We really powered.
We and our risk are flying.
And we move only forward.
Fear is not barrier for us.
We'll fly till the end.
Our team is carrier.
We look at the perishable land.
Are surrounding us.
Which turn into the dust.
Our homeland.
For life.
The death in our eyes.
We'll be the winners.
Enemies are not wise.
Now we are the skinners.
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