| It was a stormy night of winter, the wind was
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| cold and the moon was full
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| The warriors of the tyrant’s army attacked
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| the village and slaughtered
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| our mothers, fathers, wives and sons
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| In the silence of our decimate tribe, we were alive;
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| The brothers were alive
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| Our memories were on fire under the seal of Maganst
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| «Earth, drink our tears of blood:
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| Mutilated corpses in our head, we ran away
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| Through the depths of the dark forest we wandered,
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| and fell in a dream of sorrow
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| The next morning, awaked by the coldness of the dawn
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| Some ravens encircled us and Ath the biggest
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| came near us
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| He talked to our soul in a very eerie tongue
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| And we could understand the ancient words of
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| the messenger of Dwarfh
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| Ancient nation of a dying realm, we hear your
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| song, she’s flying in the wind
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| Oh… you'll never see the child
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| In the deepest sorrow, your tears are flowing
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| in your wounds
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| Oh… you'll never see the child
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| Dead in the realm of Frostthrone, let the blood
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| on the ground
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| Oh… we are the children. |