I hold dear, a beating heart in my hand,
as I stood still on shifting sand.
But the stars around me hid away;
their light has vanished upon this day.
Alas, the chains which binds my heart and soul,
rust away to a shade of rustic coal.
My heart now fades as my hand be empty;
I traveled this world on a bitter spree.
I was approached by a women, in white gown she worn;
her face was that an angel, her eyes of bitter scorn.
Out of her mouth flew a melody tune,
a beautiful song sung so croon.
The music so pure it tranced my being;
it blurred my vision, I am without seeing.
This siren song had called to me;
curse me now, upon this blood red sea.
But as I go, my wake fell upon my essence;
this holds dear to me, no convalescence.