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Dirge for november

par Opeth

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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
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