Barrow

Sense must flee before passion swells,
Else deception breeds in sorrow.
Vows of night, in the morning quell.

Beginnings ring youth’s endless bell,
Constant promise of tomorrow.
Sense must flee before passion swells.

Exaltation drowns out the knell,
Celebration on the barrows.
Vows of night, in the morning quell.

Too enraptured to even dwell,
Upon what could ever follow.
Sense must flee before passion swells.

Cracks arise on this wretched shell,
The doomed plight of being hollow.
Vows of night, in the morning quell.

An inevitable farewell,
Love-turned-lust shall hang the gallows.
Sense must flee before passion swells;
Vows of night, in the morning quell.