Pale shines the moon above meIt lights my way through the desert nightHow much further do I have to wander?How much more must I sacrifice?Mentioned only by the mad oneThe nameless city - shunned by allWhat awaits I can't imagineIn my thoughts the poet's words I recall:"That is not dead which can eternal lieAnd through strange aeons even death may die..."The wind... Unspeakable... so cold... so cold...A presence... in the dark... the wind... it tears my soulBehind the walls... Underneath the towers...Of this cursed city... the horror I faced...Beyond belief... I stared into the abyss...The Labyrinth... The tombs of glass...Twisted and grotesque... the demonic corpses.They looked at me... with empty eyes...And I swear... And I swear...I saw them move. The mad poet...His words... "That is not dead..."
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