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Winter’s Gate, Pt. 4
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Insomnium
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Still I bear the flowers of pain Still I bear the flowers The flowers of solitude And on the mountain’s side Grim-looking gate lies Staring towards the north Waiting in solitude Barring the way inside The giant doors of stone Not built for mortal men Not made for us to pa** Vile trick of ornery Gods? Rewards and riches Right here within our reach Not within our grasp! I walk with my head down Wind blows right through my waning heart Weightless like a bird in my arms She looks into the bottom of my soul Grave tidings from the northside Grave is the tone of this night Weightsomе the dark around us The weight of timе upon us No one will sing tonight No one will leave the pyre Dreaming of golden wolf Dreading the winter’s might Vile trick of ornery Gods? Rewards and riches Right here within our reach Not within our grasp! Not within our grasp!
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