and from the other room i heard her singing as if i wasn't even there. . . like our living room had become the grand concert hall, her voice is the orchestra. . .my heart is the audience. . .and in that moment i knew that Jesus Christ had to be real. because no other sound can define what she is. . .she is my Scottish baptism of a life ive only dreamt about. she's the phantoms i used to dance with late at night hoping i could kill the time. Her name is Rose. and i am but a thorn, daring enough to protect her. 
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