I smell the scent of death
I breathe the frost that calls
Under branches of fallen forest
The fluttering of raven's wings

Twilight it's hard to cope
Riding the blackened goat
Old shadows gone before us
Time holds its iron grip

White raven I can't fall
Old forest frost she calls

She whispers through the trees
Never bend upon your knee
Your spirit solid, strong
Stain the snow with their bloody whores

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