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To the Days of Old (Pantommind)

Across the field a shadow lures slow. Someone died, someone I don't know. The rocks point their finger to the rose red sky, while the sun is waving goodbye to the days of old. Sheltering your sacred soul and watering your hope. Now I turn my face to cry while the moon sings this lullaby to the days of old. The lonely nights, the wishful sights of children at play that never came your way. And while the owl begins this tale to tell, a star whispers a sweet farewell. Sheltering your sacred soul and watering your hope. Now I turn my face to cry while the moon sings this lullaby to the days of old. To the days of old...