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Therion
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One night as I was
Moping around
In some English pub
In the heart of London
Browsing through Love Mons-
Tre de Pauwels
I had a vision
In Seltzer water
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While medals
Of emperor
Shine at his waist
Bronze and gold
Platinum engraves
With a cold circle
The mark of slaves
On every finger
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Up to the thighs
She is booted
And it's like a chalice
To her beauty
She wears nothing
But a little
Guerlain essence
In her hair
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With every movement
You could hear
The silver bells
On her wrists
Shaking her bells
She moved forward
And uttered this word:
Alméria!
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