| (The mirror is the theatre
|
| Where the autopsy begins)
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| Please, be so kind to leave this place
|
| None of your kin (d) is wanted here
|
| A dreadful tremor shakes these walls
|
| Your presence vibrates violently
|
| Over many years we’ve built
|
| The utmost fragile atmosphere
|
| We can’t allow the uninvited
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| Visitor (s) to interfere
|
| The balance here’s most delicate
|
| And our salvation, if you wish
|
| Yes, our existence as a whole
|
| Is depending on this sacred place
|
| A silence, powerful and true
|
| A minimum of what we seek
|
| Pervading everything and all
|
| It can be hered, can be percevied
|
| This silence, you must understand
|
| A quiet state of rest and calm
|
| Is like a temple in itself
|
| Keeps the secluded soul (s) from harm
|
| It’s gentle light is almost dark
|
| A peaceful semble of the tomb
|
| A certain chill’s predominant
|
| As most things here have ceased to move
|
| Our lord is sleeping in his chambers
|
| The centre of our sancutuary
|
| He’s not receiving anyone
|
| He has not seen a soul in years
|
| So long ago our lord’s retired
|
| From the affaires your world to show
|
| We’ve never heared your name before
|
| Our lord’s not well, you have to go
|
| Please, be so kind to leave this here
|
| None of your kin (d) is wanted here
|
| A dreadful termor shakes these walls
|
| Your presence vibrates violently
|
| Please, leave! |