Burdens of grief that weigh against me
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aid my tired eyes in their search for pitch
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your kind heart now pines for whom the God's love
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dies young wrapped and confounded in a thousand fears
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the sadness I present, smiles with tears
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where once I'd loved now lied forlorn beauty
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and wars abhorred by mothers
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No man lives so poor as he was born
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we don't remember pure sensations
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gaze peacefully into the past
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I am dust, and to dust I shall return
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Belial, Mephisto, both shall burn me up
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devour my sad whimpering
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the cutting whip is mine to feel
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no symphony in mind to colour my dreams
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Poena damni, sorrow everywhere
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please pray for me when deep sleep falls on men
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father, hold me, I am yours to bear, ad te
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In the play which he has written for the world
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night is the mother of sleep
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old age is a malady of which one dies
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augury of a better age sages as far as the beard
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their wounds smelled so sweetly
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temptation, the father of my lust
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chalcedony shines like the new born
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Stricken I'd raise my dripping limbs, splendid was the innocents' fall
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laugh to scorn would our foe, amid wars laws are silent
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drop by drop in sleep upon the heart
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falls the laborious memory of pain
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in the rich upheaval of vast choirs, death shall flee from me
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Vast Choirs (Demo)
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| My Dying Bride |
