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There is a grove of bleached bones My blood goes to work I hear the howl And in the hollow of a restless soul lies no remorse and no disgust every kill is clean and pure every thought is cleansed in growls there is a grove of tortured forms where all is dark and deeds are foul - In a dark forest, a fiery figure rises amid swirling flames, while a wolf stands boldly in the center. Surrounding them, a pack of shadowy wolves watches in an eerie ambiance.