Thy Treasures Of Gold Are Dim With The Blood Of The Hearts Thou Hast Sold; Thy Home May Be Lovely, But Round It I Hear The Crack Of The Whip, And The Footsteps Of Fear.
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Thy Treasures Of Gold Are Dim With
Thy Treasures Of Gold Are Dim With The Blood Of The Hearts Thou Hast Sold; Thy Home May Be Lovely, But Round It I Hear The Crack Of The Whip, And The Footsteps Of Fear.
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