Turn the handle to the shadowlands. Legs will break like shattering glass. Settle in to slower pattern ventilation. And hit the ground as soon as it shoots back. But now I owe I owe the voices in my head. To say "Were these things miracles? ". Oh my heart beats like a helicopter. On thoughts of letting go. My heart beats like a helicopter. So we dig a hole into a room. To correlate the shadows even more. And he knew he knew that it was terrifying. To slow it down so many levels over. And now I owe I owe the voices in my head. They said "Were these things miracles? ". My heart beats like a helicopter