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Freedom is written in the grey horizon,

the soul is willing to make the travel

to reach the final gate beyond all broken dreams,

through the winter fog amidst the tall black trees.

An ending in solitude, every breath like glass...

Spilling blood in the lungs.

Frozen in the wilderness, through the winter fog,

amidst the tall black trees, tears peeling the frost-bitten face...

An ending in solitude.