Little woken warmth

The only thing I loved

Now a suffocated soul

It's mother's makeup runs

And rinses out the pores

Rings the color from her hair

For what we did my love I'm sorry

And who the cloth has

Wound was wound alone

For what we've done my love I'm sorry

And who the cloth has

Wound was wound alone

It's mother crosses heart

She's damned by her own milk

With unbroken water still

For what we've did my love I'm sorry

And for who the cloth was

Wound was wound alone

For what we done my love I'm sorry

And who the cloth has

Wound was wound alone

When it's three on a match

The worst are always left

I'm survived by the

Weight of my own sins

When it's three on a match

The Lord won't let me in

I'm survived by the

Weight of my own sins

The cypress came up to

My knees in May

And woken warmth grew

Right beside my leg