Under moon-shunned light, we slowly roam
Always moving, we haven't got a home.
Our bane is day, and we’re slaves to night;
Creep past ferns, some fairy lights,
A will o' wisp and swamp-murk blight.
Through mists and caves, both alike,
Pass the still-cold lake in sight,
Come, friend, let’s explore this path tonight.
Pass the still-cold lake in sight,
Come, friend, let’s explore this path tonight.
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