37 lines
796 B
Plaintext
37 lines
796 B
Plaintext
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It was all true
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A parlour strode, and the night sets forever
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I stray in the quiet cold
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And you gird me when I dare to listen
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Elastic meadow, endless arms of sorrow
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Lips try to form "because"
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Trying to adapt to the wilderness
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Where even foes close their eyes and leave
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We are inside the glade
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Every now and then I wipe the dust aside
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To remember...
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How I drape my face with my bare hands
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The same that brought me here
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But you were beyond all help
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The folded message that wept my name
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Shadows skulk at my coming
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We survey the slopes
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In search for the words to write the missing page
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The tainted dogma
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Time grows short
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As the piper plays his tune
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We are almost there
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You are beyond all help
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Dancing into the void
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We are almost there
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____________
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Name Advent
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Artist Opeth
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Album Morningrise
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