(With) The Strength and Grace of the Swan

You deflowered her And left her to wither In your efforts to usurp her And Damn her to the throe Her tearful cries tried to drown out your sadistic laughter She grew thorns So nobody else could hurt her So she could protect herself But even from those who could behold her beauty With benevolent awe... She Locked her heart and all her pain As she gazed upon the fields of sorrow As the moonlight danced with the midnight rain And she scorned the forthcoming morrow You tried to blind her Vanquish her sight Make her believe she's enslaved in dusk Never to see the dawn's light She became painless, emotionless As her facade to all would suggest When deep down her only desire Was to sleep in funereal rest But she resurged, as you tried to vanquish her, With the strength and grace of the swan And with vengeful abhorrence Her thorns pierced your flesh into the emergent dawn Your hemorrhaging River She will feast upon As you rot away, and she gains The strength and grace of the swan Her soul cannot be slain No matter how much she endure's of all life's pain.