[Chez Daja]

Opeth - The Moor

The sigh of summer upon my return,
fifteen alike since I was here,
bathed in deep fog, blurring my trail,
snuffing the first morning rays.

Weary from what might have been ages,
still calm with my mind at peace,
would I prosper or fall, drain the past,
the lapse of the moment took it's turn.

I was foul and tainted, devoid of faith,
wearing my death-mask at birth,
the hands of God, decrepit and thin,
cold caress and then nothing,
I was taken away from my plight,
a treason betowed to the crown,
branded a jonah with fevered blood,
ungodly freak, defiler.

Pale touch, writhing in the embers,
damp mud burning in my eyes,
all the faces turned away,
and all would sneer at my demise.

Outcast with dogmas forged below,
seared and beaten, banished from where I was born,
no mercy would help me on my way,
in the pouring rain nothing is the same.

Vows in ashes,
I pledge myself to no-one,
seethed and spiteful,
all shudder at the call of my name,
if you'll bear with me,
you'll fear of me,
There is no forgiveness in these eyes,
for any but one,
dispel the mist for now,
Melinda is the reason why I've come.

She is waterdrops over the pyre,
a thistle in my hands,
stained and torn, ages and brown,
virtuous shell with kindred innocence.

I awoke from the miama,
passing swiftly through the moor,
there is here, waters stir,
and in the distance all that was lost,
if you'll bear with me,
you'll fear of me,
you'd never leave me to,
a fate with you.