'Tis I dream nothing but death. Is it the courtesy of angels?
I live each day to escape from life. Is it the heart that burns?
The embers are left to torture me. Is it the memories that hurt?
The dreams drain out, my friend. Have I shunned my future as yet?
Why do I blame the stars for I always had but an empty dark sky?
I own nothing but despair. Is it the soul that has left my body?
Oh, do you call for hope, dear ser? It is but a treacherous thing to live for.
Am I a fool to think that love strangles my soul? For lonely I had been. When did I play love?
The dead dance to the wails of living. Is the flicker of life burning out?

Alas, I am left undone. For is it the death I seek?