A spark, it is, you lit in my cold heart,
Now a fire to guide me through the dark;
For six moons I have been going insane,
This dame I perceive is the one I blame;
Wounding me with Cupid's piercing arrow,
I'm now in a state of delightful shame;
For sleep has left me - I'm thinking of you
At dust, at dawn, at anytime - no cue.
However, this love, a glorious wound,
Brought passion and faith to my soul, thank you.
But as I whither away,
I fear that I shall stay,
Wounded with love's insanity without you.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
A spark, it is, you lit in my cold heart,
Now a fire to guide me through the dark;
For six moons I have been going insane,
This dame I perceive is the one I blame;
Wounding me with Cupid's piercing arrow,
I'm now in a state of delightful shame;
For sleep has left me - I'm thinking of you
At dust, at dawn, at anytime - no cue.
However, this love, a glorious wound,
Brought passion and faith to my soul, thank you.
But as I whither away,
I fear that I shall stay,
Wounded with love's insanity without you.
Hath thee felt the side effects of love Jack?
