Sometimes in life those pleasures combine
And ****** my world into a bind,
It's something that does with time
And one cannot achieve: says I

Says I the secrets that knot my breast
And things I know but cannot say are best
And every night before I take my rest
Not I not I not I.

The words are choking and abating
They take my tongue and my throat gasping
To which my hands cannot find grasping
Not I, convulsing could tell of those eyes.