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(c) Cradle Of Filth .

And I, (much as I have tried
To bury Him from mind,

Fate's tourniquet was tied,
when He died...)
Still sense His presence so divine

Lithe arms about my throat
Like pining swans entwined

Footfalls at nightfall close to mine



Suicide is a tried and tested
formula for release

I snatch His whisper like the
wind through cedars
See His face in every natural feature
Midst the mist and sleepy hollows
of fever...
With glee deceiving me

Suicide is a tried and tested
formula for release

I hear His voice from where the
grave defies Him
Siren song to sing along, no finer

Suicide notes, harmonized in a minor

Strike a chord with misery

No light nor reef
No unsinkable of romance keeps me
Safely from the stormy seas
Now drowning, resounding
Death-knells pound my dreams

Unthinkable to dredge through this
Listless and lonely winter frieze