At the start, they told me you were just looking for one night when we met.
I knew this and withheld.
I did not wish to be used, to only be thrown away.
As I withheld, you became intrigued, the rest was history.
But now, now, you are gone.
You stubborn, foolish man.
You had to play the hero.
You died as Arthur cried, I hear.
I felt you dying within my heart.
Oh, how it hurt.
But before you left, I heard a whisper.
'I love you, my darling dove.' And then you were no more.
My love, my dearest Lancelot, may you fly when you become a horse.
May you forever run in the fields of green.
I love you, I love you.
And forever you shall be missed.