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KEYENNA: THE DEAD ARE CALLING.
My days are gone,
I think I living the days of hell.
To breathe, to live is a joy
Once lost in shackles.
I could tremble and let the leaves sleep
But my rumbles have held me at siege.
The dead are calling
With their strings railing
In a bid for our souls,
To dwindle our lighting.
But the day spring is coming
I could feel it in my core,
When men will rise to love and justice
That our wanton glory has slain.
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