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lyrics

A distant sky is weeping
salt and bitter tears
we dream a dream called summer
and hope that things will change
As god above is grieving
those echoes from past years
his tears are crimson thunder
and the land lie black and burned

A millenium warsong
of a post-modern death
there's no right without wrong
soon where all dead and gone
in this russian roulette

credits

from Dorm recordings 1998​-​2000, released October 31, 2010

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The Small Hours Sweden

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