Текст (слова) песни: Joy Electric - The Harvestry of Ghosts
Grim nor gale shall hinder clove or heather Ghouls nor satyr partakes goblets and gold fount
CHORUS Years have I longed for pleasant times From the harvestry of your heart Cursed am I to be nurtured by The hollow of ghosts haunting realm He who seeks shall find her Gifts more fine than silver
Memory the crowning deed of torment Sifts it sickle with the roar of giants
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