| On the black wings of nightsky
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| The horde was riding across to me
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| And darkness slowly have risen
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| Under feet of them
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| My life is fallen to pieces by
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| Descending black fog
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| Which drains the fragments of lost
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| Ideas out of me
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| Breathing the air of the king’s clearing
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| I feel that i am uniting
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| With the essence of black forest
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| And cruel mother winter
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| At the cemetery
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| Of thousand tombs of false idols
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| In flow of morbid and terrific hate
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| I see the weak god in tears
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| And his son dripping with filthy blood
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| I desecrate them in possession of unholiness
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| The priests of compassion hanged
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| Fluttering in the winds of night
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| In hell created for them
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| By unholy beings
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| Only ruins remain instead of churches
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| Battlefields on their sacred places
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| Deathwinds are filling me
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| With this most beautiful vision
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| Candles enlighten the dark
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| And the fullmoon which appeared above
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| To enhance the funeral of forlorn ideas of christ
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| Which has been imbibed
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| By the pure black soil
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| And i became lord of woods and dark fog
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| Ultimate union in the shadow
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| Of wooden thrones
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| Has created mighty spiritual strength
|
| And when the candles expired
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| And the moon became pale
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| I found myself walking to the
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| Gates of black heavens
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| Led by phantoms of the wood
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| And hateful storm
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| But now i was one of them |