Paroles de Afterwards

Root

pochette album Afterwards
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(the tale at the end)

Clatter of hoofs, black robes,
Night falls on the land,
Neigh of horses, the scent of flame,
Leather, steel, and sweat.

Riders are hurrying through the dark plain,
Like a wind of destruction,
And behind them silence prevails again,
As they were not ...

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