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Tunes of mendacity whispers |
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throughout the gloom, like echoes |
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of mystery or a lullaby of doom |
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An illusion of pleasure |
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an illusion of pain |
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Yield to the beauty and |
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soon you will waltz with the dead |
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Come yes you and listen to |
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my melody. Say can you do |
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another such sweet harmony |
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Deep in the mist you can hear him |
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softly playing his strings in order |
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to snatch your soul far away |
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Deep in the mist you reveal him |
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a naked shape of peace as he plays |
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you a song to lure you to stay |
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Such nimble fingers that play |
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upon the fiddle. In shadows they |
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linger like the darkest of riddles |
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Deep in the mist you can hear him, |
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hearken not to the sound |
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from upon his luring strings. |
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Deep in the mist you reveal him, |
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the fiddler of the lost and drowned |
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that slip you a song to sing. |