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Symphonic metal ballad, gothic orchestral, cinematic dark atmosphere, slow to mid-tempo, melancholic, dramatic, epic storytelling, gothic soundscape, cinematic doom. Duet version. Iconic main guitar riff with strong swagger, palm-muted low notes and exotic minor runs, expressive bends, crying sustain, Slash-style phrasing (but original), crunchy Marshall-style tone, wide stereo rhythm guitars in chorus, Male voice: deep, grave, narrator-style (spoken-sung, ritualistic, calm, ominous) Female voice: ethereal, cold, spectral, distant, sorrowful. Generated whit Suno. Lyrics adapted from "Dream Land" by Edgar Allan Poe By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule — From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE — out of TIME. Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover For the dews that drip all over; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters — lone and dead — Their still waters — still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily. By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead — Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily — By the mountains — near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever — By the grey woods — by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp — By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls — By each spot the most unholy — In each nook most melancholy — There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the Past — Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by — White-robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth — and Heaven. [Bridge – Philosophical contrast] Female (soft, soothing): For the heart whose woes are legion ’Tis a peaceful, soothing region — For the spirit that walks in shadow ’Tis — oh ’tis an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not — dare not openly view it; Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringed lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses. By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly From this ultimate dim Thule.