The blue haze of eternity, flowing into my blood, a benevolence of sanctity, will ever be the fuel of craftmanship. A whimsical evengelist will ascend to heaven, to enlighten the earthlings. A crimson be my comrades, an epic of all brigades. I'll rhapsodize for my allies, be the tactical chieftain of my troops. Dreams and hope of a million steps, I'll reach it with my dignity. As the windmill being blown by the wind, I will deflect it all to keep breathing. From now on, art is my second language, a devotion for perfection. -PEDZ-