this fall's empty harvest of souls
a figure cloaked in black dwells the deserted streets
where lights no longer are lit
and doors stay closed
our houses will slowly degrade to rubble
until they'll finally disappear
Death will bury the memory of us
for we are no longer here
a figure cloaked in black dwells the deserted streets
where lights no longer are lit
and doors stay closed
our houses will slowly degrade to rubble
until they'll finally disappear
Death will bury the memory of us
for we are no longer here
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