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Curse

de Cult Of Luna

Tonight I mourn the loss of heart and soul. The path is taken. The curse, received.
Dark and barren is the winter night. Shadows move along the tree line.
A life is cleansed in blood. Cleansed by these guilt hands.
Purged in a hollow soul. Scorched and punished.
At the harbor I waited. Kept an eye on the Baltic Sea.
Across these eastern waters a country of filth and dirt.
I damn this forsaken land. Still the moon is looming low.

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