Darkness barking, baying

The door must hold, and fast.

 

Ancient hands are praying

The fire will burn, and last.

 

No one knows on whose side the ghosts will fall

Whether tearing down or holding up the wall,

But when they start

                We’ll start the war

Only they’ll know what they’re fighting for,

A ruin on a desolate moor,

We came to nought.

 

This fight’s a draw.

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