Prologue

(the sound of rain...)

[instrumental]

[A morning in magenta,

The petals fed from the dew

She held her breath for a moment

To pause off the stream

Still cling to vast, old memories

And I would marvel at her beauty

Playing through the rain

The coffin is beautifully engraved

Standing by soul, symbols of death

All of which are stared upon

With porcelain eyes it seems

Some spoke, and it was my turn to go

In death entwined, I could not believe

But it hangs around my neck

A soft breeze passed me by

Somewhat warmer for a second

I knew it was the coming of spring

Thus our April ethereal.]

(written by Mikeal Akerfeldt)