Mearle

So many times it may seem
(The throat is dry, parts gasping for explanation)
Take you for granted, not me
(Quickly your dissent stands from being shackled by the ankles)
Cause in my heart you will be
(With the anger burning you, you are drying to a slow struggle of limbs)
If there is no you, there is no me
(Evading hope with the distrust of faith)
Taught me to strive and you'll see
(You are then swallowed listening to suffer the misery of solitude, no longer can you see anything or describe it)
Your son you look at proudly
(Into its depths, your lungs are on the verge of eruption, [?])
When no one's left in this world
(You fall prey to its pains, repeatedly stabbed by pity)
Nothing else matters but Mearle
(Her role is savior, instinctive, interplayed with harmony, displace [?] rays which make this love incandescent)

When no one's left in this world