Текст: Opeth. Blackwater Park. Dirge for November.
Lost, here is nowhere
Searching home still
Turning past me
All are gone
Time is now
The Omen showed
Took me away
Preparations are done
This can't last
The mere reflection
Brought disgust
No ordeal to conquer
This firm slit
It sheds upon the floor
Dripping into a pool
Grant me sleep
Take me under
Like the wings of a dove
Folding around
I fade into
This tender care
Searching home still
Turning past me
All are gone
Time is now
The Omen showed
Took me away
Preparations are done
This can't last
The mere reflection
Brought disgust
No ordeal to conquer
This firm slit
It sheds upon the floor
Dripping into a pool
Grant me sleep
Take me under
Like the wings of a dove
Folding around
I fade into
This tender care
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