For My Fallen Angel - My Dying Bride
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 wind blows so light.
It wars with my tears
That won't dry for many years.
Loves golden arrow
At her should have fled
And not Death's ebon dart
To strike her dead.
