| The stones are silently carrying the eons burden
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| Beneath them the tokens entombed in soil
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| I call over the echoes of the wayward winds of centuries
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| In tainted awareness they merge loyalty with betrayal
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| Among the oak limbs lies the remembrance
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| And the elders artifacts covered by dust
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| Brothers once standing as unity in warfare
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| Displaced through grandiose treacherous strike
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| Appeared against under opposite banners
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| Sworn allegiance to the outer sovereigns
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| And lavished each others precious blood
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| They were clouds torn by the winds of history
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| At the field resounding with funeral chant
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| A tree with shallow roots bends under assaults
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| Dependency to the nameless kings
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| Ending up broken and defiled in mud
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| The deeply-rooted tree shall stand high and proud
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| On the restless barren land despite alternate winds
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| Here are my roots, here, deep
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| Inseparable with this soil
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| Immersed into labyrinth of olden spirits and acts
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| I absorb the very noble essence
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| A vehemence to endure each storm |