Seven Times She Wept — My Dying Bride

As I tore into my woman Her body accepted its sin I saw her dying there Just below my wing

It dies all over me Cascades of your black hair I knew the worlds end I felt it true and rare

We dance and the music dies We carry them all away As we glide, through their lost eyes You lift me above myself

Arise from your slumber In my arms Your beauty took the strength From me.