There is an old lone grave
A Lone Dark Home.
On the coast of the Cold Lake
Near the mighty old Oak.
Inside the Dream is ruling
There is no cares, well silence only
Deep oblivion.
The Gray Ancient -
a memory of Glory
The Lone Dark Home.
Nobody is making noise
Except a weak breath
That is moving small foliage
Like an ice cold breath of Death
The Dark Home
His watch will never know
Haste and passions
Of our Age
His stone heart
Was never beated for
Love and Hate.

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