The source that used to fuel my laughter
Has withered away into the dust.
And while I sit here, wasting the day,
Wallowing in my misery,
My soul's lord still manages somehow to dance,
Keeping me alive although I feel dead.
I might as well be, seeing as I exist no longer
In his burning eyes
As they glance right through me.
Why is it that birds still flutter in my chest
Whenever he looks my way?
I should've freed myself a long time ago,
But still his fist is clenched around my Sun,
Extinguishing its glow.
