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Wail of the North

de Insomnium

Under these cold northern stars
Songs are filled with sorrow
Brief is the time of summer winds
Moon is sad as the night

Here the callous frost slowly crawls inside the hearts
Here the winter's breeze will break the purest soul
Grown on this rimed soil we've learnt to rue and yearn
Grown in these bleak woods we've learnt to forsake our dreams

And again, the mourning unfolds before me
Like an open black grave
(Like an open black grave)

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