Abugor Socrates describes a love that has sunk far below reason. The speaker imagines a castle at the bottom of a sea of pain, built from confusing feelings and foolish choices, with the woman he loves seated on its throne. She is beautiful, but the speaker admits that only his own blindness lets him see her that way. She once looked at him with admiration, and that is gone now. He calls her a treasure "still not worth fighting for," yet he can't stop holding on to the "outworn chord" that remains between them.
The second half turns into a run of anxious questions. What will become of him, who will he turn to, why would he go on living? The empty throne, stone cold, stands for the hole she would leave. The mood is heavy and desperate, a mix of longing, self-reproach and fear. The shouted last line, "IF, I LET HER GO…", trails off unanswered, leaving him stuck.