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BETHLEHEM lyrics : "Funereal Owlblood"

The night grows pale
as with faint wing stroke
the cradle of decay

emerges from the ruins of reason

the roaring silence

sinks under the new trial
which escapes with speechless ardor
into decline


i tasted the morning dew
on a withered leaf

and forgot the acrimonious unrest
which awoke during the moon-shine


coz' only me is the frame and the blood
and i open your door into autumn

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