The path is taken, The curse received.
Dark and barren in the winter night.
Shadows move along the tree line.
A life is cleansed in blood.
Cleansed by these guilt hands.
Purged in a hollow soul.
Scorched and punished.
At the harbor I waited.
Kept an eye on the Baltic Sea.
Across these eastern waters a country of filth and dirt.
He emerged from the forest, how did he know? I damn this forsaken land.
Still the moon is looming low.
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