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letra de time and the gods - lethean

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on fleetest wings flies the mortal soul
from winter’s chill into homely halls
great is the storm, fragile is the candle
the night is falling – few are they who truly see the dawn

life’s flame burns low
smoke drapes the embers
where the lethe flows
no man remembers

in the embrace of a shroud of weeds
headstones effaced by the centuries
sad epitaphs, how they whisper through the ivy
the night is falling – restless is the sand within the gl-ss

bones turn to dust
in soil once sanctified
ironwork to rust
bright faces petrified

hope’s flame burns low
smoke drapes the embers
where the lethe flows
no powers venture

as the twilight yields to darkness
as mountains turn to sand
like the mindless march of entropy
the river finds the sea

o father aion cradle me
in thy beneficent arms
hark not to chronos calling thee
with voice venefic and fell
there is a distant truth to seek
beyond the waters of death

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