Our lady of seven sorrows,
Mother of mourning, precious lich...
A white horse found your grave,
Then it was
The funeral goat's semen
Annoints your resting place.
Far below, the state you're in replenishes
My well of
As things from beyond watch as you rot
Wretchedly, I pine as I begin at once to claw
To free you
from the worms, to free you
The stake in your bosom pains me too...
Wistfully, I gaze into those empty
Which once were eyes
That beheld so much blood, that beheld so
Cyanotic lips caress the cold grey face
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...
Now shall all of heaven weep.