My Dying Bride You Are Not The One Who Loves Me
You are not the one who loves me
I take you from your bathing
And I drive you.
I am this rope
Around your feet...
And it's summer
That bows it's head,
Down the rivers of night
He fathers great hatred.
Oh, and the moon
Plain in your eyes
Wishes drop through the air
And rip into the fall.
Crowned with blazing leaves her hair
And flesh,
Limb and whole.
