Some vows were made to be broken,
leaving no hope in the vows that were made.
But those who honor their words once spoken,
live bound to the words they once gave.

Ours is a bond intimately spiritual,
like a miracle that passes all understanding.
A devotion that remains infinitely empirical,
a loving ritual beyond all comprehension.

She’s my religion, and I am her Egyptian,
willing to serve with the conviction of a ram.
And to her love I live wholly in submission,
she’s my shepherd, and I am as a lamb.

As we walk thru the garden of Eden,
I relive the joy of innocence within her arms.
She is the tree bearing fruit of which I’ve eaten,
sweetened by a sin that does us no harm.

Hand in hand in a land of milk and honey,
where her every wish is my personal command.
And to serve her I’d surely come running,
across mountains of hot desert sand.

Some say she lives on a pedestal in the sky,
too high to reach, thus besetting a zealous climb.
But to keep her near, I’d earnestly learn to fly,
her guardian angel, and she would be mine.

 

Within a covenant of love so glorious,
neither height nor depth could keep us apart.
A religious love so famed and notorious,
that we two also share the same heart.

King and Queen admired with envy,
whose word is our bond throughout the land.
The sands record time, whose crystals are many,
and among these crystals forever we stand.