Lo, my dearest, the sweet music in the ear –
Albeit, daresay I, the lullaby of an everso dark sleep.
Wanion its oh so damndest soul!
With the devil-instrument it we shall reap,
After the banquet obscur'd in our thole,
Its blood so lovingly across our faces smear.
Yet! - Who doth my future narrate?
Dim the lights - I cannot see!
Bring forth ye Shadow! -
With whom danceth thou?
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