With whiffchill the Fog soars, while over her Sighs
The Night wants lay; A nostalgic dreaming in quiet remorse
Hours passing slowly since he went yesterday.

She remembers his Words... "Your Love is my Power,
F will be back in one Hour" -and rode away into the Pale
Without never ever reach her Hail
He rode into a swampy Jail.

Far away of his sweet Elenorian,
Who's in raging Worrying,
Since he went yesterday

Already few Months later without his Hello;
It was the Third of May;
She strangled herself on this forgotten Gallow,
Which never ever will go away