All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
~ J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring ~
A walk of death she takes
As she treads the lines of fate
One step forward, two steps back,
Haunting her is a ghost of the past
Darker and darker become her days
Till slowly they fade to black
Venomous kiss of death
Death, is sweet upon her lips
Her sins lie upon her shoulders
Burning like acid rain
One by one they consume her
Eating away any sanity left
Sweet upon her lips
The kiss of death
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