Soft was the summer breeze,
Dancing through the trees
As I put hand into the sky,
And looked out through teary eye
To solemnly ask myself why
So many times in my short life
Have I borne this torch of strife.
Why, oh why, does this heartache
Make me want to run a stake
Into my heart that cries my tears,
A heart not to recover for a thousand years?
I ask my stars each and every night
To bless me and to give me might
So that one day I may look at you
And not cry until my eyes have turned blue.
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