Awaken in the silent night
Alone, inland hysteria
I am a stranger in this land
Here I kneel before you
Oh, solemn glory
Standing together on the hill
Nothing is spoken, but yet understood
Below, a procession of wooden men
Swinging their tree trunks in the wind
The white birches are alive, they are marching
Alone, inland hysteria
I am a stranger in this land
Here I kneel before you
Oh, solemn glory
Standing together on the hill
Nothing is spoken, but yet understood
Below, a procession of wooden men
Swinging their tree trunks in the wind
The white birches are alive, they are marching
( Cult of Luna )
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