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By the time of the black moon

the ashes of your loved ones will be mine

You carry the stench of hope in your heart

and I will pull it from around your sagging spine

if i close my eyes

i can hear them whisper and then scream

that all of this is real and not just another fever dream

All things that on earth do dwell

to hurt you i would gladly sell

I Follow the scent of woes

Im coming to tell my stories

In my shadow nothing grows

This is the beginning of the glory