---

At first, it was of mild interest

Lo' and behold, this is no longer the case

Occasionally, the chain rips from the wall

My day is at hand, and she is to be my bride

But her resistance and strength appear to be on the rise

Before tomorrow, she may escape

And I watch, it's too dark to see

Those teary eyes watching me

But I wait, for her to come (which she will) for the meath

Fourteen months, seem like a week

The chain is broken again

Tracks to the window

Tracks to the door

Muddied tracks

Lead upstairs

Blood...?

My blood!