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The whoracle has spoken
His time has come
Turn the guilt into curse
...fate

(but) "the son of fortune" I am
I blow away the disease
The riddle was just a game
For the man of the written fate

Down on that road i shed my own blood

Endless time won't heal
His mother's progeny
Both brothers and sons
Gods' darkness fell

Both brothers and sons

Blind I was, blind I will be
I won't need sight into this chasm
Her brooch, a tool for my truth
Flows the blood to cover up the shame

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