Let God look after you, my Mus, it is a huge honour to die for the Country. I stayed alongside you during your slow going battle, we were alone in the room, I saw my hands spooning you softening the pain, mus, you accepted it without grace and told me, I will let you alone now for a short time with your blurry world , top gun, my heart tells me we will meet again, soon, in the deptness of the underworld, I will be more bent and look like a mudcrawler by this poison and you are looking there for a place to rest your head, I tell you without a trace of respect, my professional, cause I can tell you now I never loved you like you think, but since the Maydays of the pilots, when I was struck by the faith to drop in your hands, playing and pleading you to be killed, it is not a violent act to let you pay for the life of orphanage you delivered me by flattening my feet so they became the same sleepwalkinglegs you seem to have, by forcing me to act in public you didn't dare yourself , and not because the country needs you alive like you used to say, but because the most famous hero freezes when he has to crown a beauty addict, without knowing from which side death will shoot him.
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