August

Houses, soaked with light
And the sun, forcing its way in
As an eager, unrestrainable lover.
The streets breath in the dust
As the city makes love to the summer.

Great. Now we have two Evanescence bands...

We are the Fallen

Evanescence

The  story is not over yet. Two people who love each other, tangled in an oxymoronic bond, sing about the unrequited obsession with one another:

Going under

My Immortal

There is a very rare, fascinating Cathy-Heathcliff thing going on – a soul split in two, never to be put quite together again. They are, indeed, the Fallen ones. There would be no Grace for the Doomed, for the Buried alive in the eternal recurrence of this obsession – just a narcissistic libido going berserk, never completely managing to swallow the Other.