Though virtuous you be, though you are keen,
No day shall see thy mercy ever rise.
No moonlight, gently caressing the rim
Would ever bring a smile to thy eyes.

Thy eyes are cold and stern like hail of leads,
Though their victim them remembers all too well
As miles separate us on the sea,
Upon their beauty once again i dwell.

Though debt for your betrayal hasn't been payed,
You left, and chasing you i dear not.
Your eyes have left me clearly to my fate:
Abandoned, yet still craving to be caught.

It matters not, but if you were to pay the toll,
You still would keep what you already stole.

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