I still resign in the mystery of your eyes,
the diligence of being abandoned,
disposed and nurtured in a sad pattern
of these melancholic lives.
I know, I do stretch the sympathy of Time
In this agony of desiring you for my own...
wishing I knew break all barriers you are surrounded by
but then, once again, in all ends, you are gone
If I could renounce the pact I did with the Skies
or skip the cross of promises I am in,
I would hand myself to you with no disguise
and feel sheered in every single thing.