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Ballad From The Son Of The Weaponsmith

Winter's running through the night.
Frostwork in bloom.
In your new cradel a life crying.
His father lift him up:
This child
Gonna be a weaponsmith, if I live for then.
 
So it was certainly.
But said at a nice day.
Do not craft weapons anymore.
There will be no war.
Tearful, sad.
Then I see all people happy.
 
Little bell he mold.
Traveling dress he pull on
He travel around the world with the bell.
What no one hears.
And everybody laughs, if see.
 
One day he return.
Halt, barely live.
He ain't the one, who gone with closed eyes.
His father laugh a good.
Open your eyes.
The world like this and the weapon is in need.
 
I know, I know, I know, I know, your heart aches
But, but, but, but, you need to understand.
 
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