My Dying Bride
Of Sorry Eyes in March
Destiny marks your life
With a knowing finger
The act of desire has walked on by
An ancient sorrow limps from your eyes
It is just your tears left to eat
Flies lie dying on your sorry lips
And on young love's broken wings
And the stone that lets you drown
You are not worth stopping for
The Earth
With all its blessing
And the endless fathoms of night
Lay a raft of gold for you
My field here
Is where we end