In the Pale Moon of Wilderness


In the pale moon of wilderness streams of blood red star's
are over flowing our black sky is looking strange running
rivers are dead being wrongfully rearranged, when the days
are old we are in the path of the end the earth is in mourn
kept ripped and torn from our skin, can you feel it moving
west this other heavenly wilderness seems by far the best
until now We can touch the living in this other kingdom that
is new and keeps on giving, can you picture a clear placid
moon in another place that will never end far to soon the
days are still strange and filled with clear streams let us now
sleep like the undead and have a few dreams.

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