Dracula, 1931

It’s an old, old world
And a dead one, a dead one to me
They’re cold, cold nights
Laid out, laid out at my feet

O forever is not what it seemed
A collection of dry centuries
O lost to my wearisome fate
I’m the one thing that I can’t escape

It’s a strong, strong need
That burns, it burns in my chest
These long, long years
Since I, since I knew rest

O forever is not what it seemed
A collection of dry centuries
O lost to my wearisome fate
I’m the one thing that I can’t escape

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