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The Master MAG
Once a garden in the valley,
Now upon a fiery hill
Holds the secrets of a woman,
A tragic, twisting tale.
Voices abide in every flower,
Tangled roses guard the frail
Body of their master,
Their dark-eyed master,
Beautiful pale-skinned master
With that cold, unseeing stare.
Moonlight only twists her hair,
And stardust hides her eyes.
And the unblinking figure
Is blinded by the light
That once held that master,
That dark-eyed master,
Beautiful pale-skinned master
With the cold unseeing stare.
Destiny had fated her,
A brutal, crimson end.
Full of hated, betrayal,
And the putrid sting of men.
Her very love had laughed,
As the dagger struck her breast.
And stopped her once-beating
Heart, a tattered, broken mess.
And that dark-eyed master,
That beautiful pale-skinned master
With the cold, unseeing stare,
Never once did love another man,
But welcomed death himself.
The flowers she once tended,
The roses she did hold
Wrapped around her body,
Forever would they stay.
Her hair wrapped in lilies,
With buds that erupted in gloom.
And the garden upon the hill,
The one with fire blazing in every stone.
Wept for its master,
For its dark-eyed master,
Its beautiful pale-skinned master
With that cold, unseeing stare.
Now once in a garden in a valley,
Sits upon a fiery hill.
And they say that if you wander there
On the darkest of the nights
Where the moonlight sits upon you,
And your voice is stolen by the wind,
A woman sits there humming,
Flowers woven into her hair.
And she'll turn to you and smile,
With that cold, unseeing stare.
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