| Upon the next morning
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| I walked into an empty old house
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| Found this scroll on the floor
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| Among with all her rotten gore
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| Her name was yet unknown
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| But she was called the Mistress of Curse
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| She struck a needle in my heart
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| Even though she was torn apart
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| Diary of a Dying Queen
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| Entitled to the vicious script
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| I sat and read it all that night
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| About her everlasting fight
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| Fifth storm of Blizzard Wings
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| These last cryptic words was written in blood
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| I couldn’t help myself to wonder
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| What she had left beyond her
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| Waking up to painful screams
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| That day began the fearful dreams
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| Her love has gone into my head
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| I’m falling for a rotting dead
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| The reverend said I was infected
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| But I was awake and smelling the air
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| Reading from the scroll of love and guarding my angel flying above
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| I searched around in town
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| For clues about the Blizzard Wings
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| All their mouths was wide, but shut then I stumbled over a hut
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| Carved wood on the wall
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| «Oh death where is thy sting»
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| A particular abysmal smell of gore met me as I walked through the door
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| Early morning chaos weeped against me once inside
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| What I found when I was there was to become my greatest fear
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| Inside the Mistress' hut
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| I found what I’d been looking for
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| A torn out paper from the scroll announcing for whom the bell tolled |