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Sorrow ever awaits on joy |
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And has rendered me to pieces |
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You who must stoop to view the skies |
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Stoop amongst the dying |
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Libera eos Domine |
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Stoop to slake this thirst |
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My sorrow can no more lament |
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There is no arm to cling to |
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Stoop to slake this thirst |
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I silently wait, and claw my eyes |
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Libera eos Domine |
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Silent, silently |
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Waiting, to gorge on solitude |
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When will my sorrow begin to pale? |
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And to my head I raise these flowers |
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Yellowed, withered |
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Silent, silently |
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Waiting, to gorge on solitude |
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When will my sorrow begin to pale? |
