Sorrow ever awaits on joy and has rendered me to pieces

You who must stoop to view the skies
Stoop amongst the dying
Libera eos Domine

Stoop to slake this thirst
My sorrow can no more lament
There is no arm to cling to
Stoop to slake this thirst

I silently wait, and claw my eyes
Libera eos Domine
Sorrow ever awaits...

Silent, silently
Waiting, to gorge on solitude

When will my sorrow begin to pale?
When will my sorrow begin to pale?
And to my head I raise these flowers
Yellowed, withered
Silent, silently
Waiting, to gorge on solitude
When will my sorrow begin to pale?

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