"I think I must be doomed. I don't feel at all well."

My God, have mercy upon me in this Hour of Death.
I pray for thee to take my life instead of the one I so dearly love.
Her face is pale like the ivory of the distant realms,
and as I hold her hand in mine. I clearly feel it's turning cold...like marble or snow.

Remembering the days of joy, not so long ago.
Those memories just increase grief as I watch the withering of beauty.
How can it be that tomorrow she's not here and I remain?
There has to be some kind of way we can be together again...together again.

As she fades away,
like statue made of clay.

All I wish is to be in grave with her,
slowly transforming back into dirt.
Deep under the sacred ground.
No one will be able to part us now.