Advent - Opeth

It was all true

A parlour strode, and the night sets forever

I stray in the quiet cold

And you gird me when I dare to listen

Elastic meadow, endless arms of sorrow

Lips try to form «because»

Trying to adapt to the wilderness

Where even foes close their eyes and leave

We are inside the glade

Every now and then I wipe the dust aside

To remember…

How I drape my face with my bare hands

The same that brought me here

But you were beyond all help

The folded message that wept my name

Shadows skulk at my coming

We survey the slopes

In search for the words to write the missing page

The tainted dogma

Time grows short

As the piper plays his tune

We are almost there

You are beyond all help

Dancing into the void

We are almost there