The Silhouette of the trees
Behind the bells, at midnight
Embraces the spirit of those
Fought for pride of scavengers
In the quest of quenching
The thirst of their blood
A cost we all must pay
Someday when the deceased
Will rise again and
Call a war at the end
Of the day
Whispering, oh they say, they've heard
The forest cries every night
Assembling the troops of the dead
Into the stones a righteous wrath engraved
The weapon they have, I heard
Can't kill none,
But the fears come not from
Dying,
Their weapon that is
They can’t be killed.
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