my young love was named after me.
in an abstract filled of pleasure
we sought ecstasy but it's dead.
now i don't think i can be free.

the one i loved looked oh so sad.
as someone who's lost their treasure.
or a father who's own son bled
his last words were: "i love you dad"

despite all this we may be free
to live out with no more pressure,
the joys of life as god has fled
dropping his attack; I am me.