| There’s darkness everywhere in the hall of time
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| But a low glowing fire shines on lonly silhouettes
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| Nigh colums of chilliads with runes of fate
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| Scalds, bards and minstrels stare into the flames
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| Their lonly voices soar into the silence
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| Like a glint into the feeble light
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| Some runes start to shine in silvery letters
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| Forgotten stories of ruins and ne’er ending blight:
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| Far away from now in sunken times
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| A fair young maiden followed the wind
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| A will — o'- the — wisp led her astray
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| Into a vale of bleakness and grief
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| Thousands of men — struck the marching tune
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| So they died and she greets seeding tears
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| And waiting for harvest
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| Far away from now in sunken times
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| A travelling lad followed an old path
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| His thoughts stray constantly to the sky
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| Where elfs and wyverns fly
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| His colleen by his side with so bright eyes
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| Shillelagh won’t ever fly again
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| Far away from now in sunken times
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| An old bard sung with the wind
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| The trees on an old path told him
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| Of a place his thoughts still long for
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| A hall of ancient wisdom and lore
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| In the eclipse of abandoned time:
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| There’s darkness … |