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They shed their precious tears |
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wept the loss of life |
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the absence of bright days |
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unable to see the beauty of death |
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so elegantly decayed |
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In long ranks they marched |
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surely towards peril and doom |
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and the orchestra played a desolate song |
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as they willingly went to their tomb |
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A miserable pack of wrecked souls |
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all danced to the ghastly graveyard bell |
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a funeral theatre a heavenly play |
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but the stage is set in hell |
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It is for creatures of divine origin |
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a story allready told |
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but still this horrid painful drama |
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is hideous to behold |
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Disease, disease, disease and pain |
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by dementia and fever made sick. |