When you were dying, I was dazed yet ambushed.
We were fusing, and I got cold feet.
Who knew I wasn't cunning, firm, nor merciful of your love.
The content was only in text, and a dial was abundant.
But you came to my aid, and I blackballed you.
My impression was some day, yet my consequence was prevailing.
And I knew I could not mourn until I have revived you.