In The Mist, Shape of Despair 

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Shape of despair, Album shades of, sond In the Mist
Slow my feet are
frozen their veins
still closing helplessly afar
waking the creatures within
I am a lonely traveller awaiting to sleep
eternally under those cold woods
as my fall brings then
shadows of their wings as howling their
pleads wounded, I lay on ground
listening their needs
It's dark and cold and they fly slowly and
they know surely they raped my soul