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Brothehood


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Through the ages our art has not died,
We do not fail, we do not submit,
Our will penetrates the guises of this world,
An illusion to your weak perception.

With the passing of time,
Does a heart crumble and die,
To wither away like a forgotten cause,
No, truth follows in our footsteps.

The sound of our blades strike as one,
United with the same flame,
Our hearts of courage are the same,
My brother let us finish this.