I wrote you a note, while listen to Tchaikovsky While Nyx was in deep thought, Through her exhausted drag. Poised with wings, I kept the song unsung. To tell, you are always on the list; It would make you so proud – "But who is Victor?" –I yelled at Latona. All I have left to do, is to worship you, bellowing down to earth– Seeping your nectar. Poised with wing, I hold your song unsung.