| Oh we of empty hands…
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| Oh we children of calamity…
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| How could we have known
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| That it would have come to this?
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| We are overcome in the wake of your passing
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| Struggling forms sifting
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| Through shadows, searching
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| Many are the voices of the dead
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| The severed kin forgotten
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| Betrayed, ghost voices among the ashes
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| Ever calling to us on the wind
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| An now by those sinew holds the hand
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| That guides the arrow?
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| Whose lore to we inherit
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| The scavengers of dreams?
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| We tremble in the blackness
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| In the paling of our marrow
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| As we fill our throats with earth
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| In hope the elder voices become our own |