You Are Not The One Who Loves Me — My Dying Bride

You are not the one who loves me I take you from your bathing And I dry thee 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 played in your eyes

Wishes drop through the air And rip into the floor Crowned with blazing leaves, Her hair And flesh limp and poor.