The Distance, Busy With Shadows
My Dying Bride
In heaps they were
The dead stacked high
I crept and sang among them
Black was i, yet bent to it;
God and i had shunned them
It fell at my feet
No!
It didn't just come to me to heal its wounds
I will kiss it
It is within me now.
I feel the birth of doom
And the fruit of my body,
Stares right out of this room