Am I to believe that this is how it ends?
I never meant for this to happen to you.
What are they not telling me?

I am not dead,
And I am still wearing your ring.
That, in turn, makes me your wife.
Do not lie to me.

If I could take it back,
A thousand times over,
I would.

And should you die in your moment of submission...

Tell me what it’s like,
How bad is it going to be?
You are nothing but a man of sorrows.
Should I now be haunted by you in all of my grief?

So this is it then...
The pious devil surrenders under a mask of riotousness.
His withered hand over that of a golden crucifix.
But do you love me enough to wear it without a scarlet sash?