They dance like puppets on a string, before the mighty puppet king.
They dance into the mid-moons light all the while when you fight.
They seek the end they get by force, while watching fate and it's set corse.
They dance on graves while it's no task, and you'll never see behind the mask.
The puppet kind has come to claim, all those things you left in shame.
When you end up in your grave he'll make you into a puppet slave.
Remember what i've said today, and pray you never lose your way.
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Shadow Swordsman Gora
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