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Note MeArden ablaze and afire,
The mirth of the stars is no more.
The curtain of life is a pyre,
Afire with a deafening roar.
The drums are awakened,
They are calling to war.
Breath of a heart is forsaken,
Alone is a going the war.
The shroud of the blaze is no more,
The Arden now silver and glass is ashaken.
The life from the beat of the drums is a roar,
The foe that's afire, alive, and awaken.
With hoofs on his feet and horns on his head,
His souls is of iron and eyes are of lead.
Covered in rust being shrouded with dust,
His voices are shrapnel twisted with lust.
The sun turns away and the moon is no more,
The stars are all gone, and Arden no more.
The war bells are screaming,
And the chorus of voices ringing.
A deafening chorus of blood and commotion,
The banners are lifted and the battle in motion.
The lonely one are a thousand,
And the thousand lonely are one.
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