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No one can read your heart anymore,
Leafless tree of faith reminds me of our woe.

Last time I was a trier and here is my word,
Every eager beaver can seize the sword.

The heart wields my whole flesh,
This is what my Strenght feels – faint slash.

I understand myself, I'm able to cover,
I'm in blooming for these times, forever.

The being is now in one's prime,
Under the derelict beholder, almost mine.

How could I be sated by delight,
When my journey starts right (now).

At night, spawn feed dark demons,
Like a rotten carcass – hard seasons.

No one can rewrite my past anymore,
Do I still feel the slavish toe?

Text přidala DennieDen

A Tale of Woe

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