ONE KIND OF A PERSON SHE USED TO BE

                                                
                                    One kind of a person she used to be.

                 Gentle, soft and pretty

                 Shy, annoying and witty,

                 She remained unloved by her own

                 Though our love remained just strong.

                 The grief, to hear love, an adversary.

                 Yes we swains, in our ditty,yet

                 He well beseen, he of eld, you left?

                 Bells ringing, and you dight in white,

                 The broken paramours stay still,

                 And my sweetheart, dear Gaymead.

                 A memory was it now, where you lay.

                  

                 It seems like there's no one left,

                 Everyone just disappeared.

                 My heart withered in her absence,

                 All cold , unhealthy,

                 And nowhere to go

                 Nothing seems to bloom.

                 Without the flower herself,

                 No feelings are ever felt.

                 Without the lover herself.

                 My world seems so empty Without her sound,her
                 Laughter or cry.Not once did I ever expect this to 
                 Happen,Not in my wildst dreams,that love would,

                 Leave me trapped.
                 In this day, hear the knell of agony.

                 Though when we meet

                 In heavenly pleasure,

                 My heart will throb,

                 To the found treasure

                 -My love.


                 Oh the turbid morning!and she my lupin,

                 She calls! still so far, but ne'er

                 So near to my heart. I hear my love! I do.

                 Why? the sudden breath, you revived,

                 The left love, did you still?

                 And the thief? he alludes and the stem withers.

                 For he had stolen my flower.


                 In my arbour, she awaits around a hundred Lillis.
                 The sunlight glistening through her nut brown hair.
                 Her cheeks blushed better than the deep rose petal,
                 And her dress of purity more fair,
                 But now there is a dark cloud, my tears stream down
                 She holds back to the raging clone aloe
                 And fades.


                 For now its the sleep,

                 That never lets me dream.

                 As my soul aches,

                 And my heart cries,

                 That its you

                 Who has snatched away my dreams,

                 And would never return

                 Or come by.

                 Patient shall I be, until I see a familiar garden,

                 When the sour fruit shall no more be a burden,

                 And chide together never shall we, for again

                 You'll smile and gone the veto's stain.

                 I promise no stammer or a blink

                 To say to you, I do.