| Still a blind believe for raging memories
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| For a forced interpretation of these fearful sceneries
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| Creeping through the blood-soaked ruins, ethical disease
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| For a leadership on both sides of a river flowing deep
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| Restraining and gaining for rust and mud and blaming
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| Revelation, cremation for whole
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| Worlds peoples reputation
|
| They’re walking through madness and call the end
|
| An aeon of tragic and God’s descent
|
| All ended November a waxing moon
|
| And Aries guided them into doom
|
| Cold the hands and cold the hearts and brains so blunt
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| For a basal viability and a new dawn they hunt
|
| Listening to the impacts, testimonium of pain
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| Resting within ruined futures and the futureless to maim
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| Explain me, obtain thee, how rich the poor one’s can be…
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| 1813 still hurting and new fronts ruling, bursting
|
| They’re walking through madness and call the end
|
| An aeon of tragic and God’s descent
|
| All ended November a waxing moon
|
| And Aries guided them into doom
|
| So many lives sacrificed but for nothing they have died
|
| Strength to ride for a world killed by day and night
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| It’s so many lives, a breathing sacrifice
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| But for what they died, an uncountable price
|
| A pandemonium without a pendulum
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| System elementum without its… cerium
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| They’re walking through madness to be an aeon of my doom
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| Cerium lost and gone like the reaper’s pendulum! |