Each word I freed

How crept into your heart

Standing without your walls

Lonely and very dreary

Strait gates I opted

Gang closed like labyrinths

With tortuous way'th no doors

Opens to no one who dare

Each bit I fled

Bring forth an infinite rays

Unto a sword of golden blades

Made out of my blood

Only one promise I left, ye!

That though your days'ld grow ill

These tunes I sings is all yours

Always there to grace ye dear

Written by:

~ Bernando A. Minguita Jr. ~