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Marksman and the Queen
We walk atop our mountain palace white, the marksman and the queen.
In peace we chase the lonely winter sun, and never stop to rest.
The fast-fled light of day bids us to go, we follow Sol away.
The forbidden fruit of royalty is sweet, and for now it’s mine.
The evening banishes the sun, the dark becomes our home away from home.
The frozen January moon arrives, and for now we’ll stay.
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