Where Cold Wings Blow I (was) laid to Rest
I Can not reach my Rusty Weapons
the Blood and Sword that Guided my Path
for they Drowned in the Sands of Wisdom
I was, indeed, a King of the Flesh
My Blackened Edges; still they were Sharp
Honoured by the Carnal Herds
but asketh thou: Closed are the Gates?
My Mind cut my Winged Weapons
and Teeth that was my Pride
And from the Forest all would hear:
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