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as the first days of winter creep and strike

I rise, fuelling on my wound and my might

my wound and my might

I try to bury it deeper but a storm gathers flesh

it leaks out of my skin

 

now we’re out on the field of prey

can you show me how to wield a prayer

how to wield a prayer

 

creatures come, divine and purified

and I call for you in awe

I call for you with a mouth that’s new

but where is my voice

 

as the last days of summer drag the drab along

I fall, consumed by my wound and my might

succumbing to my spite

I call for you in awe

I call for you with a mouth that’s new

but where is my voice

in my wound and my might

 

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