My Dying Bride

You Are Not The One Who Loves Me
You are not the one who loves me I take you from your bathing And I drive you. I am this rope Around your feet... And it's summer That bows its head, Down the rivers of night He fathers great hatred. Oh, and the moon Plain in your eyes Wishes drop through the air And rip into the fall. Crowned with blazing leaves her hair And flesh, Limb and whole. From Letras Mania