| The night all winds were still
|
| And silence lay weightly on the soil
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| By a water sat a voiceless man
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| Alone by the moonlit mirror
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| He looked to the horizon with a mournful heart
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| In remembrance of what had been
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| Still he could sence the smoke
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| Of the countless pyres by the stone
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| He let his hands carees the black ground
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| Among this urn’s' dark ashes lies memories of past times hidden
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| Ruins of the times gone by
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| Once all this was his…
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| His name had been carved in stone
|
| His image bore into battle
|
| But his men were defeated
|
| And his temple burned…
|
| This mournful man keep silent
|
| For the faith in him is gone
|
| And the land he fought to defend
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| Has withered in his abscense
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| But still some hearts burn with rage
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| For the desecration of this land
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| Some praise his name at night
|
| Some hail his image high…
|
| And the man knows:
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| No lost battle will be forgotten
|
| In this timeless war
|
| His name had been carved in stone
|
| His image bore into battle
|
| But his men were defeated
|
| And his temple burned…
|
| This mournful man keep silent
|
| For the faith in him is gone
|
| And the land he fought to defend
|
| Has withered in his abscense |