Thy love, I gather the thorns for thee  To speak the scars, sad many.... they are    They bleed their palms across thy face  They are the tears I wish to shed  Yet only tears of red shall fall  On this night, on your grave    The scent of dried flowers, rest upon the palls   As night graces rose garlands black  For bleak laurels of dead lilies and thorns  Hang so silently still upon walls draped in ornate death  Wailing in sighs deep and forlorn  In mourning I wish only to corrupt the silence  Cold marble reflections of dreams lucid in sorrow  A vision of beauty that forever sleeps    I am the one who regrets  Her loss, her love, the wasted years  For time withers away her ghost  And I live only to collect her tears  To lament the memory of her laugh  For her breath is still held close to thee  Yet she sleeps so still in thy arms  Yet thy kiss falls harsh on her lips    I am nothing yet I am, I am everything yet still I yearn  Let these bleak thorn laurels honor the vast sorrow I have endured    The sad cypress sings of black star lit nights  Caressed by the crescent moon's blood red hue  Let the petals fall upon this sullen path  For nature's sweet kiss knows your song of tragedy