Echoing hills can tell your past
A dark and fortuitous time
Stars will craft their best
And skies will lark the eve
Tell you haven't wasted your honor
On a ghost of linder
Retching a few minutes
To spare hearts an attachment
Condem me of all my reapful sins
A pledge to you
On this golden scribe
My honor and service
So that I may avenge this death
*In all the annals of time