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The stars grow dim
In their places
And the moon turns pale
Before me
Veils are blown
Across its flame
Demons approach the circumference
Of my sanctuary

A wind has risen
The dark water stirs

And they like the dark places best
For their god is a lying lord
Strange lines appear carved on my door
The light from the window
Grows increasingly dim

At death's door
You will find your redemption
And there will
Always remain a black earth

Helvete

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