What lies beyond the shadow of the sun,
where no man has trod his footsteps?
Where the song is sung and brought undone,
and the moon has blown his final breath?
The river there flows swift, untold
by merchant, king, or slave.
The valley there lies basked in gold
where the dead man marks his grave.
The barren lands will wither and rot,
as our kingdom crumbles down.
Militant soldiers soon forgot
the purpose they had bound.
The hollow homes and hallowed land,
they shake beneath the wind.
The torrent air and blasting sand
They make the people thinned.
The shining sun, the godly mother
does not give her light.
The valley of shadow claims another
and man will fear the night.
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