Tis a mystery of mysteries
thy heart is eternally within my own,
Beating atpase of my own.
Aching breaking is my lovers passion,
upon thine lips of dying embers.
Yet of the sweetest tasting wine is thy lips.
I lay with thee with flowers of death
roses slowly slowly decay
turned to ash and dust with just one kiss,
from thine own blackened lips.
Death is such a departing moment a time of longing for thee,
My passions dying with the passing of thy last breath.
It's a token a moment to be taken with ease.
As our hearts decay together!
thy heart is eternally within my own,
Beating atpase of my own.
Aching breaking is my lovers passion,
upon thine lips of dying embers.
Yet of the sweetest tasting wine is thy lips.
I lay with thee with flowers of death
roses slowly slowly decay
turned to ash and dust with just one kiss,
from thine own blackened lips.
Death is such a departing moment a time of longing for thee,
My passions dying with the passing of thy last breath.
It's a token a moment to be taken with ease.
As our hearts decay together!