Woorden:
My Dying Bride Turn Loose The Swans

dies We carry them all away As we glide through their lost eyes You lift me above myself With the ghostly lake of your mind Arise from your slumber in my

poison my honest truth. Come dress me with your body, and comfort me. I dreamt of a dead child in my sleep. I wear a terrible mark in my head. My clean

the chase still will my hopes pursue thee Then when my tedious hours have past, be this my last lesson given low at thine feet to breathe my last and

Vertaling: My Dying Bride. Turn Loose The Swans.