All is lost. When the man in black rope comes for us all, it matters little what we do...
Note
Humming his tunes, he treads between the graves... Gleaming sparks beneath the moonlight... How chilling, his red soaking steel scythe blade... How swift and mercilessly, the souls weep in terrors...
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The information and publications are not meant to be, and do not constitute, financial, investment, trading, or other types of advice or recommendations supplied or endorsed by TradingView. Read more in the Terms of Use.