My Dying Bride

The chosen one glows like the sun
Pure of heart, wide in eye
Sweet she sings, sings her hymns
Golden girl dances by
He is filth. Scum of God
Black as night. Mute and sick
Sent by the Lord. The boy his sword
To reap the gold. To use the stick
He watches her from his side in the blood
Waiting for the holy call for her blood
Every moon she comes close to her Lord
Sick with suffering. The stench and filth of him
Death all around him. The flies, the dogs, the din