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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...

In dies all over me,
Cascades of your black hair.
I knew the world's 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






Mais tocadas

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