Fall The Deep Curtains, Delicate The Weave,

Cheat Me Not With Time, With The Dull Ache Of Flesh, For All Flesh Turns, Even The Loveliest Ankle And Frail Thigh, To Bitterest Dust.

Dead Men Would Start And Move Toward Me To Learn Of Love.

Love That I Bear Within My Breast How Is My Armour Melted How My Heart

Luminous, Unfearful; High-priestesses, Our Fervour Shall Banish All Evil.

Why Wait For Death To Mow? Why Wait For Death To Sow Us In The Ground?