decadent
beyond the gates of iron and bone
past the towering wood of rot
stands a castle, built tall from stone
where daylight touches it not
dark cumulus loom over it high
walls now painted a cold, sullen blue
the castle, so bare, so lonesome, it sighs
its face downcast with painful rue
beyond the gates of iron and bone
past the towering wood of rot
stands a castle, built tall from stone
where daylight touches it not
dark cumulus loom over it high
walls now painted a cold, sullen blue
the castle, so bare, so lonesome, it sighs
its face downcast with painful rue
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