| My fears in Banqou stick deep
|
| Haunt my sleep
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| He knows the sisters' prophecy
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| His smiles I can read
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| For his breed I’ve sold my soul
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| A fruitless crown can it be all
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| Fate will have to bow her head
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| Banquo my friend soon you’ll be dead
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| Muderers will do the crime
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| I’ve paid them well to cut you fine
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| I’ll never have to look at you
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| Banquo my friend your life is through
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| I — I’ve walked deep in the blood
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| Return I can not
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| No I’ll have to carry on
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| To be safe with what I’ve done
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| The Dead arise from their grave
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| To assail what we thought safe
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| The Dead arise outta hell
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| To the hero that fell
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| What is this I look upon
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| Should be dead and gone
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| How can I believe my eyes
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| Is it a lie
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| Banquo how can it be you
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| You lie in the blood that’s what you do
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| I see mortal gashes on your head
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| How can you smile you should be dead
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| What man dare I will dare
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| A thousand warriors or the Russian bear
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| But pale cheeks of immortality
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| How can I fight how can I fight against thee
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| Oh no — Let the earth hide you away
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| In hell you should stay
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| No don’t you reach for my crown
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| I shall never take it down
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| Shaken by the ghastly apparition of the slain Banquo Macbeth fears even stronger
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| Now for the security of what he has stolen by murder and treason and defends
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| By such means. |
| Like a blind stalker in the night he is drawn back to the lair
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| Wherein the witches dwell, hungry for confirming answers to the burning doubts
|
| in his soul |