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Rancid
3 December, 2006
Author: Rick Ryckman

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The lightning strikes and thunder roars.
A heavy fall of hail pours down.
From out of the wet wilderness I can hear their footsteps.
There are so many raging rivers to cross.
Dark visions are running through my mind.
Fear is devouring my soul.
The rancid stench of death is frozen.
I am so hungry for any kind of shelter.
The phantom orchestra plays its music till the end.

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