MissMoon
stressed; slow
My heart doth protest ye wasteful desire
T'was with great remorse, I cannot help but admire.
Thine eyes and thine hair,
O my sweet, with skin so fair...
How now dost thee wander with lustful intent
As thy doxy cradles thine bosom in devilish relent?
I beseech thee, O mistress sweet,
Bethink oneself of a love discrete.
Hast thee ever felt these pangs of desire
Or hast though smothered thine previous fire?
Why dost ye spurn thy lover with a vacant stare?
Sentiments rejected...'tis more than I can bare.
I cannot deny thine wandering eyes
So shall I succumb to a sorrowful demise...
T'was with great remorse, I cannot help but admire.
Thine eyes and thine hair,
O my sweet, with skin so fair...
How now dost thee wander with lustful intent
As thy doxy cradles thine bosom in devilish relent?
I beseech thee, O mistress sweet,
Bethink oneself of a love discrete.
Hast thee ever felt these pangs of desire
Or hast though smothered thine previous fire?
Why dost ye spurn thy lover with a vacant stare?
Sentiments rejected...'tis more than I can bare.
I cannot deny thine wandering eyes
So shall I succumb to a sorrowful demise...
