The melancholy and the brooding of the weather,
And my boots they never wear,
For they are meant for sturdier stuff
The rain can pour and blow
But still I walk on and go
To a place on the edge of the cliff,
The place where everything meets,
As the river starts overflowing
The ravens, they start crowing,
The snow starts to fall
As the land begins its torment,
When i start searching and surveying
I see the land that is laying
And my eyes are filled with content,
And the sun light,
It seeps slowly through the clouds,
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