Lament Lamenting you, my lover who doth not love gentle suitor who dare not suit. Passion draining from my heart in tears of fire that burn down my face shattering the mirror. Seven years ill luck a welcome release from these gilded chains that have me thus enfettered to thy cold heart. Oh the wretch you've made of me! Groveling at the throne of Eros to reap this accursed heart that doth corrode like acid to a nail upon the cross of Calvary. Even the angels feel apathy to these vile insurrections for which there is no redress.