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There s a storm in his heart
And the fire burns his soul
But the wanderers part is to ride alone

With bare hands he has taken many lives
He has had a hundred women by his side
From enchanted woods to the freezing North
He is known at every sea and far beyond
As the moon grows and the circle is complete
He lies down and waits for sleep
But there's always a scenery in his mind.
Of all that beauty he once left behind