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Klabautamann
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Lurker In The Moonlight
Enter the path that leads astray
Up the hills, passing the forest gate
Walking the steep and stony way
Beside the forbidden sphere
A sphere of delightful gardens and open graves
An old desolate lodge, hidden and fenced
There comes the wind that caresses the trees
That caresses ourselves as we lurk in the moonlight
Maybe we know the craft of the night
As we listen to the sounds of life
Drowning in grainy darkness
We are composed here
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