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Withered wisps of hair

Upon a throne of gold

You built your hollow kingdom

For which you sold your soul

A fading silent prayer

Echoes as it dies

The ones we seek, the longest are

The ones we never find

Blankly staring eyes

As deep as holy jewels

Fixed upon the future

But deadened still and cruel

Although it seems to shine

Thought returns to dust

Giving back the heathen ground

The light she gave to us