| Autumn has arrived, leaves are gone, the sky’s in flames
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| A crimson red is brushing the valley brightest light
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| I remember my Novembers, ancient rites throughout the fog
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| A magic melancholia surrounded all the plains
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| A manifest of winds, the forces of the earth
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| Darkness laid the curtain against the mighty oak
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| Figures hooded in the shades in front of braziers aflame
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| My childhood eyes have witnessed the ritual rebirth
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| A breeze from the sea came like mystery cries
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| The druids chant a strange lullaby
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| The sparks from the flames reach the stars in the sky
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| Are we are ready to die?
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| Forgive me father for all that I have sinned
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| For all the times I tried to be a follower within
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| Forgive me mother, sweet earth where I have lived
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| The beauty I’ve mantled, the pureness of your kin
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| We all hail the moon gathering on its sixth day
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| Turn every barren one fertile as our mother
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| With golden sickles we raise eyes to the sky and pray
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| Cure every poison and take care of all our brothers
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| Come and dance with us the dances of the witch
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| I dreamt the white druid’s voice whispering the words
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| The mistletoe, the sickle, the big Valonia oaks
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| From that day on my knowledge opened up to a new itch
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| A breeze from the sea came like mystery cries
|
| The druids chant a strange lullaby
|
| The sparks from the flames reach the stars in the sky
|
| Are we are ready to die?
|
| Forgive me father for all that I have sinned
|
| For all the times I tried to be a follower within
|
| Forgive me mother, sweet earth where I have lived
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| The beauty I’ve mantled, the pureness of your kin |