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A candle burns by an old man's chair |
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Burns on and on, but there's no one there |
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The light that comes from the old man's home |
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They say |
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Started when he passed away |
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Sits right there on the old man's desk |
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Pass days and weeks, hasn't burned out yet |
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That candle fire by the dead man's chair |
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So strange |
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Wonder how it burns that way |
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Oh, what a cursed and blessed sight |
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Possessed, enchanted phantom light |
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It shines so small and it burns so bright |
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And strange |
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Don't know how it burns that way |
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That candle fire by the dead man's chair |
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They say |
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Ever since he passed away |