Morning fire in my eyes
cry into the great demise
Wait until she follows he
for she cannot show her glee
And then my eyes may burn and dry
and in my time, I cannot cry
but as I fall and as I die
my bloody dust does rise and fly
But then the waning moon does set
and with it follows my regret
And may then my tainted spirit fly
and with all luck, may then I die
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