If I could make a tower
I'd make it out of you
And if the days go cold and sour
I'd climb to reach our rendezvous.

O' skin so clear and fair
Smooth like Mirror's reflection,
If I could stalk from way up there
I'd stare locked by your complexion.

But alas I mustn't touch
No matter the mortal urge
Or else it would be all to much
All discourse spells your fateful purge!