Freed From The Yoke Of Your Burdensome Tongue.
Freed From the yoke Of Your Burdensome Tongue.
You have rejected me, and the heaven of your arms
has no beauty when your man is scorned.
Spurned for many nights, and again today,
in the cavern of my great pain,
I long to shout out to the masses,
who dance and swirl around me,
that if I were crippled,
and every seat but the one next to you,
was covered in vomit,
I would stand till I collapsed,
just to avoid being near you.
We knew such bliss in the wee hours,
then like a vicious spider you turned
and bit me in the web of your charms,
poisoning the passion,
that even the gods envied.
"But I will cut off my hand
before I'll reach for you again.
Wipe it out of mind. We never touched."
You are now but flesh made stone,
a monument to tragedy unleashed,
and my heart lies beneath,
your grave repercussions.
Begone wicked wench,
your spell is broken
by the cruel utterance
of your own sneering lips.
Beyond eternity I will abhor you,
in the depths of hell I will plead,
that the demons dutifully
torment you without mercy
for no heaven could hold us now,
since you've denied me
the paradise of your arms.
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