Beacon beacon, burning bright,
Guide my winding path tonight.
Point me onwards to my home,
With glow recalling fires of Rome.
Haunting lights to kill my steps
While Hell’s light bursts beneath your depths.
It’s always been there, staring me down,
Burning reds of the Devil’s frown.
I watch it again and fill with fear,
While it stands as it has year after year.
And now from Devil’s Hill a cry,
As purged in fire, happiness dies
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