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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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