Testo di Dirge For November

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