Love is a thing with Arms,
it loves to craddle you when most weak 
-It listens to your thoughts and changes them- 
All you do is out of love-
But what is love might I say-
Dreadful tears and sorrowful alibies
-That's all I've caught, it's all I acknowledge-
The regretful pain you feel afterwards is what I recognize- 
you see,
All your confrontations turn into something of a play,
You live by those pitiful moments,
That aren't in your heart to deny-
Accepting your destiny,
As if it were written on stone-
As if it could determine the manifest of the unknown-
Love is a thing with Arms,
it exceedes your expectations-
but leaves you with nothing.