Of Sorry Eyes in March - My Dying Bride

Destiny marks your life

With a knowing indie.

The act of desire has walked on by.

An ancient soul limps from your eyes

It is just your left to it.

Flies lie dying on your soury 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 it’s blessing

And the endless of night.

Lay a raft of gold for you

My field here

Is where we end.