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Fim dos tempos Soundboard
The air is thick with anticipation, a sense of finality lingering in every gust of wind. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the empty streets, a stark reminder of the chaos that has consumed the world. The distant wail of sirens pierces the silence, a haunting melody signaling the end of an era. Amidst the wreckage, the faint whisper of a solitary voice can be heard, chanting the words "Fim dos tempos" with a sense of resignation.
As the sun sets on the horizon, the sky is painted in hues of crimson and gold. The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance, a foreboding crescendo that heralds the coming storm. A chorus of howling wolves joins in, their mournful cries carrying on the wind like a lament for a world lost to ruin. The rustle of leaves underfoot adds to the symphony of destruction, a solemn accompaniment to the symphonic chaos that surrounds.
In the abandoned ruins of a once bustling city, the sound of footsteps echoes off crumbling walls. The rhythmic pattern of boots on concrete reverberates through the empty corridors, a ghostly reminder of the lives that used to dwell here. The soft patter of rain begins to fall, a gentle patter that slowly grows into a torrential downpour. The thunderous roar of water crashing against pavement merges with the cries of distant voices, blending into a cacophony of despair.
Amidst the rubble and debris, a lone figure stands, gazing out at the desolation that stretches out before them. A solitary bell tolls in the distance, its mournful peal a stark contrast to the silence that now reigns. The crackling of flames consumes what remains of the city, sending plumes of smoke into the darkening sky. The sound of crumbling buildings fills the air, a symphony of destruction that crescendos to a deafening roar.
As the last remnants of civilization crumble into dust, the world falls silent. The only sound that remains is the soft whisper of wind through the ruins, a haunting melody that lingers like a ghost of what once was. And in the stillness, the words "Fim dos tempos" hang heavy in the air, a final testament to the end of an era.
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