pyre A thistle in my hands Stained and torn, aged and brown Virtuous shell with kindred innocence I awoke from the miasma Passing swiftly through the moor
pyre A thistle in my hands Stained and torn, aged and brown Virtous shell with kindred innocense I awoke from the miasma Passing swiftly through the moor
Vertaling: Opeth. Die Moor.
the pyre A thistle in my hands Stained and torn, aged and brown Virtous shell with kindred innocense I awoke from the miasma Passing swiftly through the moor
