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Ihsahn
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Regen
More like a gesture
Acknowledging the coldness
Of its touch
I pull myself closer
Around the neek
As to contain myself
From disappearing
In the flux
And the heavens roll violently
Over golden waves
And rust-red hands
Dripping wet
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In all their dying splendour
Se, we meet again
While dirt turns
Into rivers of mud
Beneath our roots
We stumble and laugh
As we read the inscription
On the naked rock:
Sum quad eris
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