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My Dying Bride Like Gods Of The Sun For My Fallen Angel As I draw up my breath And silver fills my eyes I kiss her still For she will never rise On my weak body Lays her dying hand Through those meadows of Heaven Where we ran Like a thief in the night The wind blows so light It wars with my tears That won't dry for many years "Loves golden arrow At her should have fled and not Deaths ebon dart To strike her dead." |
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