For they in thee a thousand errors note; 

But ‘tis my heart that loves what they despise, 

Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote; 

Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted, 

Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, 

Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited 

To any sensual feast with thee alone: 

But my five wits nor my five senses can 

Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, 

Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man, 

Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be. 

   Only my plague thus far I count my gain, 

   That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

Tell me your secrets.

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh take me back to the start.