Print

With grace my mother can you play the harp Like an angel to a saint I feel so lonely the loved falling far from grasp Dei gratia, heal the wounds that cut so deep To never cease feeling such misery, so real To utter with a lisp, so subtle Ab initio ad finem I kiss your forehead You clasp to my palms The uterus from which gave birth Stares withered and sopine Hide the cries you so hear Stripping you so naked Wipe the sweat from your brow Weeping to a given drought The shrouding of the light Death is your god send Upon your final breath the skin upon my arm rigours Deus misereatur de profundis quantum libet Taedium vitae esto perpetua From Letras Mania