| On a cold winternight with the moon ablaze
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| We where gathered around the fireplace
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| Silent we sat with our foaming ales
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| Respectfully waiting for the old man’s tale
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| With a final draw on his ivory pipe
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| The old man raised his voice, and began
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| As his voice raised and sank in the strangest rhyme
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| We drifted away to worlds of ancient times
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| By his words we where able to see through his eyes
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| Into places beyond where dragons still flies
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| Forgotten realms, mysterious lands
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| When childhood dreams are close at hand
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| With mythical beasts and lustrous elfs
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| Those magical worlds reveal themselves
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| Solo: Dahl — Jukka — Both — Dahl — Jukka
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| And when the story ended we felt hollow yet glad
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| The return to the grey reality made us all a bit sad
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| But I could see the faith in everyones eyes
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| That somewhere, there are worlds where dragons fly
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| And this strange night in late december
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| Will stay in my mind, and I’ll, remember |