I can't stop it, I fear I'm falling.
From a very high place, down into you.
Is it Love? Not yet.
But for sure it will be if I keep falling this way
Of the lot of labors lost, our people know such bitter fruit,
Of love forsaken, and fates hither tossed, so many stories become moot.
Our kindred spirits keeps our paths, liken on to a single goal,
To make our lives ever greater and to dip into the immortal bowl