In the deepest part of the sea,
The sky brings away the glee.
You are the cry that I be,
And the hope that has flee.

As wine I have treasured,
Fragile glasses against pressure,
You are the time I never measured,
And the pain of simple gesture.

Of tongue that has tangled,
I feel as if, strangled.
The fire always rattled,
And yet you haven't prattled.

At the brim of the ocean depths,
The stars cry for the sky, of its death.
Swaying above the panting waves,
You grab on me as I sink below.