| The woods are lonely, dark and deep.
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| Stopped between mountains and frozen lakes.
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| The darkest evening of the year,
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| I came and wrote upon a cross under foot.
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| And on the mournful stars gazed up above.
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| The eagle watches from his mountain walls.
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| Good-bye to the sun that shines for the dead no longer.
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| Now sleepy beath summons him down to Acheron,
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| That rold shore.
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| There is no bride song there, nor any music.
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| She saftly whispers your welcome to the endless darkness.
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| Where the blue sky turned to black
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| And the moon remains a frozen hidden memory.
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| One would say that the earth,
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| Is the way of all flesh.
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| And the sea is the way od all souls.
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| The very dead of winter.
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| Oh, starry night! |
| This is how you wished to die |