Moaning winds, and crimson skies,
now this earth has let you die.
Crying, crying, in the night,
angels hover beyond sight.
Mother, Mother, speak to me,
not in dreams, and reverie.
For your time was not foretold,
how can darkness be so cold?
How can hours steal away,
every hope of waking day?
Clenching pain ensues the living,
Fate herself is not forgiving.
Now, the moon will slip away,
and the starry night shall fade.
As our spirits will be flowing,
into realms beyond our knowing.
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