| Song | Blackwater Park |
| Artist | Opeth |
| Album | Blackwater Park |
| 作词 : Opeth | |
| ConfessorOf the tragedies in man | |
| Lurking in the core of us all | |
| The last dying call for the ever lost | |
| Brief encounters, bleeding pain | |
| Lepers coiled beneath the trees | |
| Dying men in bewildered soliloquy's | |
| Perversions bloom round the bend | |
| Seekers, lost in their quest | |
| Ghosts of friends frolic | |
| Under the waning moon | |
| It is the year of death | |
| Wielding his instruments | |
| Stealth sovereign reaper | |
| Touching us with ease | |
| Infecting the roots in an instant | |
| Burning crop of disease | |
| I am just a spectator | |
| An advocate documenting the loss | |
| Fluttering with conceit | |
| This doesn't concern me yet | |
| Still far from the knell | |
| Taunting their bereavement | |
| Mob round the dead | |
| Point fingers at the details | |
| Probing vomits for more | |
| Caught in unbridled suspense | |
| We have all lost it now | |
| Catching the flakes of dismay | |
| Born the travesty of man | |
| Regular pulse midst pandemonium | |
| You're plucked to the mass | |
| Parched with thirst for the wicked | |
| Sick liaisons raised this monumental mark | |
| The sun sets forever over | |
| Black Water | |
| Park |
| zuò cí : Opeth | |
| ConfessorOf the tragedies in man | |
| Lurking in the core of us all | |
| The last dying call for the ever lost | |
| Brief encounters, bleeding pain | |
| Lepers coiled beneath the trees | |
| Dying men in bewildered soliloquy' s | |
| Perversions bloom round the bend | |
| Seekers, lost in their quest | |
| Ghosts of friends frolic | |
| Under the waning moon | |
| It is the year of death | |
| Wielding his instruments | |
| Stealth sovereign reaper | |
| Touching us with ease | |
| Infecting the roots in an instant | |
| Burning crop of disease | |
| I am just a spectator | |
| An advocate documenting the loss | |
| Fluttering with conceit | |
| This doesn' t concern me yet | |
| Still far from the knell | |
| Taunting their bereavement | |
| Mob round the dead | |
| Point fingers at the details | |
| Probing vomits for more | |
| Caught in unbridled suspense | |
| We have all lost it now | |
| Catching the flakes of dismay | |
| Born the travesty of man | |
| Regular pulse midst pandemonium | |
| You' re plucked to the mass | |
| Parched with thirst for the wicked | |
| Sick liaisons raised this monumental mark | |
| The sun sets forever over | |
| Black Water | |
| Park |