The bloodstained Nightingale sings. Within the darkness her lament rings.
The shadows chase, with their resentful face.
Like lambs to the slaughter they fall, and all that remains is her mournful call.

The bloodstained Nightingale sings. Within the darkness her lament rings.
The shadows chase, with their resentful face.
Like lambs to the slaughter they fall, and all that remains is her mournful call.

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