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Chained to a black post
In the street of Rjukan
Surrounded by mountain
And industrial fog

Lifting stones in anger
Rotten smell of ironskin

Grey sky mourning
Last glint of light
Local dogs are watching
His last silent fight

Condemned by the court of old
Condemned by parochial laws

Scratching to the bone
Feeding the mind with horror

Nocturnal shadows
Feast upon wooden walls
A cold wind
Licking at his rotting torso

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