| The forest lends its life to me
|
| And loyal to her oaken creed
|
| On her ethereal wind I rove
|
| Up above the race I loathe
|
| My roots are flesh and blood
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| But supple as the soil they suck
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| A bastard sapling When winter
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| calls me down And brings me life
|
| And when the nights falling down on me
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| I watch the demons fly
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| I wake the trees and give them speech
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| Their words teach me the ills of mankind
|
| Walk this path and feel my pain
|
| For this hatred and disdain
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| My birth is still a mystery
|
| Unto the skies and the earth I plead
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| An explanation for this curse
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| Be it gold, be it dirt
|
| I feel a darkness drawing near
|
| Barbaric voices invade my kingdom
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| Lurking shadows follow me
|
| Of a man I cannot see
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| The earth casts shadows on this race
|
| I claim no party to this disgrace
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| To bear his form and not his mind
|
| To my past this world is blind |