Monday, July 11, 2011

For My Fallen Angel

As I draw up my breath
And silver fills my eyes
I kiss her still
For she will never rise

On my weak body
Lays her dying hand
Through those meadows of Heaven
Where we ran

Like a thief in the night
The winds blows so light
They war with my tears
That won't dry for many years

Love's golden arrow
At her should have fled
And not Death's ebon dart
To strike her dead...


~ My Dying Bride

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