Our lady of seven sorrows,
Mother of mourning, precious lich...
A white horse found your grave,
Then it was beheaded.
The funeral goat's semen
Anoints your resting place.
Far below, the state you're in replenishes
My well of loss
As things from beyond watch as you rot beneath me.
Wretchedly, I pine as I begin at once to
Claw the eart
To free you from the worms,
To free you from damnation
The stake in your bosom pains me too...
Wistfully, I gaze into those empty holes
Which once were eyes
That beheld so much blood,
That beheld so much evil...
Cyanotic lips caress the cold
Grey face of one interred
Whose flesh is much too frail,
Whose flesh begins to quiver
Mistress of my flesh,
Your servant longs for your kiss,
To hold you once again,
All pretty with blood...