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Following Betulas

Cult Of Luna

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 spoken, but yet understood.
Below, a procession of wooden men. Swinging their tree trunks in the wind.
Standing together on the hill. Nothing spoken, but yet understood.
The white birches are alive, they are marching.