All in vain my hopes have risen,
tender touch and bright glance given.
Grasping my hand you renew your grip,
never and always refusing to slip.
Joyously my soul sings out to the sky,
little my knowledge so soon it would cry.
With those same eyes you tell me these things,
silently my soul is clipping it\'s
wings.
Why must you tell me,why play these cards?
Why rend my heart to small bleedingshards?
