| Down by the river where the sand meets the shore,*
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| Lies a stone that they say, it was brought long ago
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| They know not where it comes from
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| And a myth is born from it, and the power it holds
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| 'Once every time when the moon hides the sun
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| It glows with a fire, that the eye cannot stand
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| A man then is born from the ash of the flames
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| Like a phoenix he rises, but cursed for a day.'
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| Aged as the oldest element on earth
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| He’ll walk for a day, to break his curse
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| A life he must take, and add to his own
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| And then only then, will his tomorrow dawn
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| For so many years has he tried to survive
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| He walked through the town like a beggar disguised
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| He knows not how to break free
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| No memories reside him, of his earlier deeds
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| This man with one purpose
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| For freedom he dreams
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| To live for one lifetime
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| Or die, Left in piece
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| «What would take for me to see
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| The sunrise tomorrow and not through a dream?
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| I wish to be mortal, to live through my will
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| To thrive from my memories and do as I feel» |