Lyrics
Come, come,
here into my arms
fall to a knee,
to my pseudo-charms.
The day is ours, this I know,
love and lust, not flowers, are the seeds we'll sow.
Onto the morrow and many a new morn’,
and lanced shall be flesh
by concupiscent thorns.
Come, come,
the sun, over us,
burns its lovers' glow
and the grass projects
passions shadow below.
The day is ours, this I know,
love and lust, not flowers, are the seeds we'll sow.
Onto the morrow
and many a new morn’,
and lanced shall be flesh.