The room fell still, submerged by time
The chatter drowned in liquid hours
If ever words were obsolete
The vibrant air would speak
There is conduct
Like honour among thieves
There is grace
Within the fearful eyes of those who seek
And we know
We know so well the endgame of our presence
would
within
throw
tongue
liquid
there
moment
honour
might
chatter
still
fearful
hours
among
complete
where
monument
conduct
forgotten
thieves
endgame
could
never
these
drowned
ourselves
obsolete
passage
instinctively
paths
belong
presence
rites
blood
sentiments
words
share
unspoken
silent
speak
submerged
grace
strangers
riddles
suspended
known
those
vibrant
violence
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