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With greyness of the sky
and ground so black
I come out of my grave
for a midnight snack

I Lurk in the hills
travel in form by the night,
the blood of a victim
flows faster with fright

These roses are black
I press their skin to a thorn
the blood that comes forth
is what I adorn

Love lost is not,
I never sip on my food
their blood is now in me
so no need to brood

My hunger now quenched
no longer chilled to the bone
surround by millions
but I still feel alone

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