From upon this callow Earth I now call thee, the Twin, the Evil, The One of Fantasy. From Games sick lament, I hear you; From Symphonies of old, I hear you; From the Chorus of the Damned I hear you and beseech you, come to me. Tis a fools errand to be sucked in by such a ploy, as all good twins know. Twins are never apart, even if they be divided by chasms. Wings, Machines and all the goodness in between bow down to Twins majesty. Her call and His echo, are now the battle hymns of Glory, Honor and Timeless Masterpiece. To each their own, yet by twin tree or twin bud, we now do walk this sacred Earth. Without this Earth we could not have known, and within her bosom, are we made whole.