Album: The Shadowline
Spent whispers in the aching room
The chorus sings on yet love is crushed
We lie there, trapped in our own tomb
The bedclothes wrapped, lending to us
A winding-sheet for charnel lust
The mocking scene of former trust
I shall miss you, I shall miss you
But I think I ought now to go
Please don't touch me nor speak of love
No hint of tear to tell my deed
If you must talk
Then curse your love
As for no change your eyes will bleed
Boundaries change
The game is played
Speech that pleased you left me deceived
Obsequies poured to you betrayed
In your divinity I so believed
'Til all your secrets disappeared
My time to leave has now neared
When I go there'll be no winning pleas
To turn me from this sought for freeze
In shame I take the time to pause
As if this act can be redeemed
My fingers trace the lines I'll cause
Fresh furrows in the pale skin's gleam
My needs force you soon to be told
Your trusting sleep has since been sold
I shall miss you
But I think I ought now to go