The heart, a tide, may change amongst the day,
Like the brewing wind from north to south a'sway,
An imminent death that strikes so abruptly for one to act,
Hence draws the forsaken horrors and emotions deemed fact.
A swaying heart like imminent death is but marked a treachery,
For but the tide from the brewing storms crashes only so severly.
But amongst the tide shall we anchor our hearts with mightly chains,
And sway not the heart nor mind for we'st be imminently sane.