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Click hereI take this vow so solemnly as I do to you
For nothing is as sacred or as true
And though my best... may not always be
Quite Enough
I would hope to see Her more than well-loved
I stand here, with my rose in hand
I look upon this forsaken land
And though I see nothing that seems
Quite Right
I have found myself lost to the night
For Her moon is as celestial as any star
And Her sky is just as pure
As any other rose I hold
As any other of my cures
My ailment is simply that I cannot be free
With all the night
Tormenting me.