Don't mind the lyrics

He was griefborne, a haunting past,

The mournlight falls, troubling so much.

She was a tearsmith with words too shallow,

The moonblight regime, too hard to touch.

He kissed the thorn and called it love,

A vow, a bloodchant, soft yet grim.

She wept in silence, a soulshard piece,

Lovelorned in secret, a fallen dream.

A thornkissed bride, with moonless eyes,

A groom of doom, with veloglass skies.

He begged for death, a rueworn soul,

She was fury—a requiem of control.

She spoke in sighs, a language so vile,

Time took slumber, a vellore of style.

Yet still he waits where sorrow feeds,

In a chillwept crypt where no heart bleeds.