| The song he sang was surfaces
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| Nothing deeper than a child knows
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| He could sing sand into pearls
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| So the saying goes
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| Some said he was a sorcerer
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| Or a warrior chief
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| But he was the stealer of souls
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| The lord of Chaos reaps
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| And he’s frozen in a time trap
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| Slowly losing power
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| And he’s frightened if he makes a move
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| The dream will soon turn sour
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| Sprawling in a Ruby Throne
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| His head cupped in his hands
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| The Lord of Dragons, Elric’s thoughts
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| Were of quests to far-off lands
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| The Black Sword was at his side
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| Murmuring in its scabbard cold
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| Waiting for the moment to arrive
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| To drink the very essence of souls
|
| And he’s frozen in a time trap
|
| Slowly losing power
|
| And he’s frightened if he makes a move
|
| The dream will soon turn sour
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| He did not know that the sword he’d hold
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| Would turn his priceless empire into fool’s gold
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| The truth, the shadow of the sword will hide
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| 'Til it’s too late, a traitor at his side
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| And as he gazes from his ruby throne
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| He’s growing restless of the life he’s sown
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| To get away, embark on a quest
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| To put his powers of sorcery to the test
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| The drugs he takes to keep himself awake
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| Lose their effect, he can no longer wait
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| To find the sword and gain more power
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| And make his move before the dream turns sour |