Ghostland's beat reminds me of the iambic push of Shakespeare's charged lines. (And the subject of love). What do you think?
by William Shakespeare
Thus can my love excuse the slow offense
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can see, but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
The can no horse with my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made,
Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race;
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;
Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.