My arms are wrapped around your body so
That if I move the slightest you will know
Each time I fight the urge to pull away
I fear that I prolong the light of day
My fairest amor, your purity sings
And grazes harpist hands upon my strings
I yearn to hear and treat them preciously
But previous ballads have deafened me
My pencil bleeds
Your blood of need
To clot it means to leave