There’s no such thing as a lover’s vow
For passion is wayward and blind
As a barque that sets its handsome prow
With no mind for the current under its bow
Or the storms on the main it will find.

As for feelings high or feelings low
The currents that run through one’s mind
As clouds that form then surprisingly go
Or tempests arising that awkwardly blow
They are paradoxically kind

For we are the beasts that roam and roar
In a passion of fury and sound
That issues from out of a soul that’s sore
Knowing neither whence nor yet wherefore
Lacking even an inch of ground.

So body and mind are not mine to plight
Although I give you my throth
For I am the creature that lost the fight
And fell into eternal night
In the spell of Amida’s oath