He was as pale as someone dead;
He stayed silent and showed no breath.
He moved not as our eyes met;
He looked startled, tired, and mad.

He was like a dead child unborn;
A child of night; yet a corpse of morn.
He turns all wild after sunset;
He rarely sleeps; nor lies in bed.

How could I fall in love with him?
For he is mute as how death seems;
He is mean and emotionless;
He is inhuman and soulless.

For he has done lots of mischief;
He knows not even why to live.
Though his face looks bare and naive;
And his red mouth, voiceless and stiff.

For he has not tears nor feelings;
Smiles not at kindness nor givings.
He is deceitful and selfish;
He is boastful and coquettish.

For he may have had 'nother girl;
With whom he sings and dances and swirls.
She must be than me prettier;
And thus fairer, and lovelier.

Weird for I love him even more;
More than I praise this earth's dear Lord.
He owns all the might of my soul;
He fills my charm; he makes my whole.