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From the deepest valleys my heart moves on...
And from the highest mountains my heart moves on...
And through the cloudy seas my heart moves on...
And through the riven skies my heart moves on...

And it is moving... A shape is moving...
And when the memories burning my heart moves on...
And when the echoes returning my heart moves on...
And when the welkins are falling my heart moves on...

So long as fragments are calling my heart moves on...
And so I'm moving through the rifts, through tunnels, veins and briars...
My skin is waving like ensigns, an army keen on war...
And through the halls I'm moving on, through laps and spines and columns...

And all these blunt knifes on my throat are making me feel home...
I see a face in poisoned wells, a named but untamed promise and I can hear it's cloyed voice, sick from the dead bird's smell...
And so I'm tearing off my wings and burn the bony bridges...
I spit in wells and cleave a hand... The parting is due to grace..

And when the memories burning my heart moves on...
And when the echoes returning my heart moves on...
And when the welkins are falling my heart moves on...
As long as fragments are calling my heart moves on...

And when the stars are fading in sober light we dance though smoldering fires and moving on...
And when two mouthes are joining in sober light we feel the splendour of plainness and moving on...
And when the ashes is snowing in sober light I'm feeding flames with a memory for moving on...

Text přidal Scoth

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