Lyrics
In the grip of melancholia and its vast forest of thorns
that has (my flesh) scarred, for a beautiful creature
I have fallen hard— I have fallen for you, o' beautiful.
Beautiful, submerge me in the sea of your blood,
carrying me, with feeling, through the veins
to where love reigns in its central stronghold.
Beautiful creature, we have the ichor only honest lovers know.
The sense of an immortal rush passes vessels
as virtue beats, from the heart, its echo.
Ergo, ever-we-go, lovingly aging to the grave.
No soul to save, as we are at peace
together in only a way kindred souls will know.
To the grave, we go—onward and onward.
Falling hard, dancing in a doomed lover's Galliard.