My Dying Bride — A Purse Of Gold And Stars

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Your summer breathes aloud
Your prayers overcome
Your love letters will fall
Of severe relief
The language of dreams
The offerings of your shrine
Am I what you see?
Well just pour the wine

I bring back to you
Only the things aisle
I built a pure white castle
For you to grow
The clothes that you wore
You dropped them one by one
The duty of lovers
Has now begun
A mouth drawn to a mouth
And I don’t ask when
I ended up as your lover
Wrapped inside your skin
I enter the labyrinth
Of moonlit skin
I’ve worn out my heart
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