I feel the ghosts,
of loved ones, dear.
I hear them whisper in my ear
They haunt these halls we miss them so.
I wish that death had let them go.
spells being thrust, I remember.
Now we return this December

I feel the ghosts,
of loved ones, dear.
I hear them whisper in my ear
They haunt these halls we miss them so.
I wish that death had let them go.
spells being thrust, I remember.
Now we return this December
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