Opeth

Kept warm by the light of the lantern
Lost sight of everything tonight
My presence blackens their pattern
A pock in the healthy and calm
Their scorn behind your back
My promise would put them down
No trace of reverance left
Immemorial fire in their eyes
I would persih at the given signal
At the slightest touch from my soul
Tainted prophet in flesh
For all the plagued and lost
Dripping sin
Decision in stalemate
Dare to feel death at hand
Surprised me with its voice
Through the forest came the morn