Will you ever see this nOf children sticking in your mud?nObserving their world going insanenOnce lost but they'll be strongnAgainnTake the letters downnFrom your old bookshelfnLurking photographsnAll the desperate notesnPeel your own image from the mirrornSit down by my sidenTell me what I've donenTry to change your mindnOnce you've been my onenSee with what simplicity we could lovenWallow in memoriesnWe stood by a pond that winter daynAnd a few leaves lay on the sodnThey had fallen from an ashnThere was no sound, just younJust you and me talkingnAnd then four wordsnPlayed between us, still whisperingnLet us be onenWere I alone,nThe world itself would be a desert to menThorns devournAnd beasts annoynAnd my guilt terrify menThe earth a wildernessnAnd me in solitudennHer:nYou are alonennBut most upon melancholynBecause void of younWill you ever see this nOf children sticking in your mud?nObserving the dark league of the sunnOnce loved but now you're gone awaynnLife and love must be more than thisnnWe stood by a pond that winter daynAnd a few leaves lay on the sodnThey had fallen from an ashnThere was no sound, just younJust you and me dreamingnAnd then four wordsnPlayed between us, whisperingnLet us be onenI don't know how the thingsnCould end the way they didnnHer:nI am alone,nAnd now the world itself is a desert to menThorns devournAnd beasts annoynAnd your guilt is justifiednI'm a human wilderness in solitudenA subject unto stormsnBecause void of younHelp menn(...And I step into my heart and meetnThe singing smallnWho would like to shout and whistlenIn the streets and squelch the passersnFlat against the wall...n'cause I'm balancing above an oceannOf expectations, fears and human stiffnessnYou don't feel the yearning of speech,nThose patterns of my dreams,nThe unseen genius of the wood ornThe urgency of courageous reasonnWill you ever feel?nWill I ever break the spell?nAm I alone?nI don't know... To seem the strangernFalls my lot, escapist of your day,nShadow of the saddest truth:nYour life is an almighty lie!nnLove, a subject ofnThe mere diurnal grindnLying upon the groundnFeeding upon rootsnLove, a subject ofnOur deepest fearnAll things desolatenLike a tragic mask)