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As time grows to be my reaper |
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I leave my mark behind |
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And history will be my keeper |
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But I am still alive. |
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And where the ancient kings are buried |
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New kings will rise and stand |
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And so the torch is always carried |
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Passed from hand to hand. |
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In the night it is all we care for |
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And we all play our part |
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Enslaved is our passion and therefore |
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We hide it in the dark. |
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And where the ancient kings are buried |
|
New kings will rise and stand |
|
And so the torch is always carried |
|
Passed from hand to hand. |
|
And where the ancient kings are buried |
|
New kings will rise and stand |
|
And so the torch is always carried |
|
Passed from hand to hand. |
|
And where the ancient kings are buried |
|
New kings will rise and stand |
|
And so the torch is always carried |
|
Passed from hand to hand. |