Jute Gyte - The Grey King | Текст песни

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• Jute Gyte
• The Grey King

The slow approach of winter after winter
The turning seasons wither in my head
The weary fluctuations of time and distance,
Forgetfulness and dying
The grey king no longer clings to that which dies
The imagination is lonely at the great thought of death
Black void of loneliness
Worms rob the honeycomb

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