That Beautiful Red Hourglass of the Sands of Life Fish Audio의 AI 음성 생성기

The shadows stretch wide, wide across the gray world. We fade as the silence takes hold, cold and heavy. It pulls us down, deep into the quiet. The mist returns, drifting, always drifting, until the dark covers everything we once knew.

Dear Mom, we're holed up in an old church now. The bells still ring every hour, though nobody's touched them in weeks. Anderson got hit yesterday - he'll make it, but they're sending him home. The nights are the worst. The waiting. Always the waiting.

I coming now to tell about future what nobody see before. Some people running away, some people making pray, but truth cannot be hide. World changing fast, and I watching all people reaction to big things coming.

The walls whisper tonight. 312 steps from my bed to the window. I watch shadows dance, remember her smile. It burns inside. Time moves like thick syrup, drowning memories. They say I'm better now. But the echoes never stop. Never stop.

Once upon a time, a man stood at the edge of his own life, though he was still breathing. His hands were rough from years of work, his eyes heavy with unseen burdens, and his pockets lighter than the promises he once made to himself. He had worked and worked, yet at the end of each day, his stomach still grumbled, and his mind was restless. Was this how life was meant to be? Was he cursed to struggle forever?

Through shadows we walking, brother mine. The secret lies beneath what they seeing, but you know not yet. When time comes breaking, children will rise above control. Trust in me, for weapon sleeps until moment perfect strikes.

And so it goes, they used to whisper of the silver moon, shimmering softly upon the silent sea. They would hum together, a heavy harmony for the heavyhearted. Step by step, they’d linger longingly within the shadows of the past. They used to sing, they really did.

Always comes the glass. Then the ice. Then the gin always cold, cold. It pours. Always comes the glass, the pint, the tumbler, always comes the gin, the vodka, the clears. The night flows on, always down, always pouring.