| [00:01.37] |
(the sound of rain...) |
| [00:05.07] |
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| [00:08.09][instrumental] |
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| [00:10.34] |
[A morning in magenta, |
| [00:12.46] |
The petals fed from the dew |
| [00:15.20] |
She held her breath for a moment |
| [00:17.21] |
To pause off the stream |
| [00:19.25] |
Still cling to vast, old memories |
| [00:21.57] |
And I would marvel at her beauty |
| [00:23.59] |
Playing through the rain |
| [00:25.53] |
The coffin is beautifully engraved |
| [00:27.59] |
Standing by soul, symbols of death |
| [00:29.50] |
All of which are stared upon |
| [00:31.46] |
With porcelain eyes it seems |
| [00:33.28] |
Some spoke, and it was my turn to go |
| [00:35.57] |
In death entwined, I could not believe |
| [00:37.65] |
But it hangs around my neck |
| [00:39.68] |
A soft breeze passed me by |
| [00:42.28] |
Somewhat warmer for a second |
| [00:44.50] |
I knew it was the coming of spring |
| [00:47.46]Thus our April ethereal.] |
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| [00:50.57] |
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| [00:53.06] |
(written by Mikeal Akerfeldt) |
| [00:55.90] |
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