In the halls of the dead, there is only silence and dust,
Stillness amidst bone.

Death finds its way,
In the depths its kingdom lies

Hallowed halls, where the dead make their rest,
Undisturbed by the living, on pain of death.

Those who venture forth won't be seen again,
Lost to the endless halls of the dead.

The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it.

Death finds its way,
In the depths its kingdom lies

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