opeth - §2 lyrics
my woes
yet i wandered through the gilded halls
your fevered mother would care and bother
and love her like one of her own
her words:
the word of christ tells us to forgive transgressions (save me)
it is through him we can distinguish right from wrong (scold me)
a penurious handmaid gave birth to a girl in our care (clеanse me)
we arе compelled to persevere in place of the estranged father
until his return
but your mother was dying faster
and by my penance, in disarray
her ruin looking on
a delinquent’s confession
death
her bane and protector
placidly waited ‘neath the scorching moon
for yield
a descendant daughter
snow made white the street of her dreams
and on that night i authored said theme:
tragic, the idle hands of progeny
reclaim your souls
there is a rising tide of sorrow
sister
there is a rising tide of sorrow
brother
there is a rising tide of sorrow
sister
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