My desolate,
Thy love my heart hath forsaken.
Now hollow lays your soul, denied of the morrow and the morning dew.
Deprived and hollow, the melodies have changed in tune.
The leaves have fallen, now comes a cold December.
The tides of fate have shifted and the slumber brought by night escapes you.
Regret has won this battle,
Your heart layeth slain by the very thing that gives it life...