Why does he possess her, the delicate flower.
What could he have done to deserve, such a delicate treasure for he cannot measure a man of my spirit or nerve.
For nights I lay crying, so quietly dying; for a taste of such heaven as her.
I have fought, and I've bled, I've both followed and led and I've earned no such honor or laud.
I reel with emotion, and she bears no notion that she is a trophy to fraud.

I force self-composure and follow my orders; a humble spectator to life.

A rock in the stream, insurmountable dreams wash over me; I am alone.

Such a glorious visage to have graced my eyes, perhaps I'm just greedy to lust.
She hath gifted me with a soft glance from her eye, and I guilt that my rage is unjust.
She has made her choice, though it burns in my breast; this pain is one I cannot bear.
I have bled, I have cried, and have watched her glide by; oblivious to my despair.
Such is the way of the world I dare say.
Justice and Solace are words.
So I rise to my feet, and I shall not retreat; as I await my next glimpse of that girl.