The woods are lonely, dark and deep.
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Stopped between mountains and frozen lake.
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The darkest evening of the year,
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I came and wrote upon a cross of wood
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For the rotting flesh lying under foot.
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And on the mournful stars gazed up above.
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The eagle watches from his mountain walls.
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Good bye to the sun that shines for the dead no longer.
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Now sleepy death summons him down to Acheron,
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That cold shore.
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There is no bride song there, nor any music.
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She softly whispers your welcome to the endless darkness.
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Where the blue sky turned to black
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And the moon remains a frozen hidden memory.
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One would say that the earth
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Is the way of all flesh.
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And the sea is the way of all souls.
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The very dead of winter.
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Oh, starry night! This is how you wished to die.
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-----------------
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Voyage To Eternal Life
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Astarte |