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Hail the workers digging graves

Black soot marching into the night

Lantern and spade

Caring for the dead as none would

Hail the guardians of the pyres

Burning through till dawn

How can it be so clear

We are not reclaimed

We must rot or burn

At the hands of our own

No angels gather

Only shadows lengthen

We must rot or burn

At the hands of our own

All hail the dead that have passed

Devoid of salvation and judgement