(the sound of rain...)

[instrumental
[A morning in magenta,
The petals fed from the dew
She held her breath for a moment
To pause off the stream
Still cling to vast, old memories
And I would marvel at her beauty
Playing through the rain
The coffin is beautifully engraved
Standing by soul, symbols of death
All of which are stared upon
With porcelain eyes it seems
Some spoke, and it was my turn to go
In death entwined, I could not believe
But it hangs around my neck
A soft breeze passed me by
Somewhat warmer for a second
I knew it was the coming of spring
Thus our April ethereal.

(written by Mikeal Akerfeldt)