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Dark Hill
by
Lebanon Hanover
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Through the decadent streets Some delicate fiends, float From the shadows to the street light Some faces of pale, unveil So silent and still I grab your scarlet hands And i take you, and hold you Hard; We reach the top of this dark, dark hill And my heart rattles Against my ribs A misty path with frowning trees Whispering They poke from view Of an icy moon And talks protrude Of doom and gloom
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