Dead vines, entwined, root from your heart and spread like fingers on your skin No true love knot shall they weave No true love, no, not for thee The thorns shall pierce your eyes, with dead thistle for your sighs No rose petals for your path No lily's leaf for your cries All the birds I bring to you - not to bless nor sing to you, but to nest within your mouth and fill you through and through with doubt Come and see, and sigh, and cry, and then breathe with cobweb breath Red tears fall on the flowers and their petals shall thus be blessed Dead vines, entwined, root from your heart and spread like fingers on your skin No true love knot shall they weave No true love, no, not for thee...