What love of you now
Shall flow from then
From the beat of my heart
Nor the stroke of my pen

From forth the flower
In which you would seed
The eye of your power
Your demented dark need

Shall I throw myself
Upon your bower floor
To beg your mercy
To abuse me more

Long gone is your child of when
Who might wet your whistle
To fill your pen
These eyes now not those you saw then

They burn with desire
For your memory take hold
The eyes of the tiger
Just see you as cold