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When the moon rises the balance changes Like the foaming caps at sea Now we gather all together to cast our spell of three With hands so linked and guests asleep we stealth down wooden stairs To work our art upon their minds to change what’s written there Just three we’ll take for slavery we’ll send them to their misery We’ll make them pay with their long lives, insults we won’t forget For blood of servants spilled above and plans that lost their threat How ignorant they still remain of injuries they’ve dealt