Thou'st but a ghost who lingers amongst the land,
For must he lack the proper notion of the peaceful rest,
Yet shall the specter be sent from the Heaven's command,
Only to wander and yield unaccomplished goals attest.

And so is a memory, for which we hold so closely a'dear,
For which it escapes us not for it too is but a lingering soul,
Which amongst the midst of night shall it impose us with fear,
And too, as a specter, shall haunting memories, never be free a'so.

Oh, dearest haunting memories, please flee'st my mind and finally be set a'rest,
Instead of inflicting such engulfing pain and treacherous waves upon my chest.