слова песни Amorphis - Withered

Withered be the flower
Long past it's prime and bloom
Forgotten on the stony bed
This silent hillside tomb
For coppered be the grip
Of this wooded land
A crude cold gauntlet
Hides the boney hand

Tears once warmed the ground
Torn out of eyes that could cry no more
Compassion for the wind to take

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