The lark sings near the windowsill
Its melody awakes me from slumber
But why is it so melancholy
Against the yellow-stained moon?

It seeks refuge against the coming tempest
On a branch that bows to poisonous fruit
Tonight, it sings a goodbye to me
The lark waits for His palms to sweep him away.

When will the garish sun rise again?
To dry a set of teary eyes
Waiting patiently by the window
Against a starry canvas suspended in the heavens

I can no longer escape the oppressive shadows
That have forever trapped me into darkness
The cold chilling breeze breaks my spirit
My songs wane into blank verses - hollow, vacant, bare -

Let merciful Diana paint me a silver river
Leading up to those distant hills
I hear a dreary melody calling me there
A chorus of larks await my voice.