Down on stones it grows
Up in the trees
It’s not a plant I tell you
And these are not leaves

It swallows all his kingdom
It swallows his pride
A black disease is spreading
The kind must know the cause

There! In a valley, on horseback
Black creepers point him the way
Up to the mountain castle
He once knew its name

He runs up the stairs of a tower
He opens the door
On the throne he’s sitting by himself
Black cause, the black source

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