Vogues - 'Till
Till the moon deserts the sky
Till the all the seas run dry
Till then I'll worship you

Till the tropic sun turns cold
Till this young world grows old
My darling, I'll adore you
Anathema - . . . And I Lust
Wandering aimlessly thorough dead filled fields.
Rewards are just, who knows what absence yields?

By the golden beauty of dusk
And the sun low in our sky.
By the haunting shadows of tr