Oh, how my love
has become a song of woe.
Oh, how this heart
that has held you so dear
and swore upon my soul
that I would never ever let you go
holds such woe.
Oh, how it seems
that the whole world had died
and I along with it.
Oh, how my heart
has been nailed
upon a cross
of shadow and blackness
in a land of the dead.
And the ravens
that feed upon lost souls
feed upon this heart of mine
that once held
a love beyond the words
that the fibers of my brain
could ever express.
A love that was
only ever before
held within the heart of God.
Oh, how my heart
is but a poor broken thing
as I am a poor broken thing.
Oh, the blood that once
ran within me
giving life to all my bones and flesh
has become as cold and dark
as the hand of death.
Oh, and all the hope
of all my life
and everything it could ever be
has taken wings
and flown away
into the night that never ends.
Oh,  play upon your strings
and all the things
that once made
such music that made the heart so glad.
Oh, play a funeral march for me
play that music low and dark
with its drums so soft and low
for I know
that I shall soon pass away
like the last rays
of a setting sun
when race has been run.
Oh, for I shall soon pass
beyond the veil
from which none return.
Oh, how a poison
biting and strong
through my veins do flow.
Oh, the only thing
that can now give me
comfort and peace
is the thought
that from this world I shall fly.
Oh, as upon black angel wings
and my only peace now
are the words soon spoken.
"Oh, he is gone.
Oh, forever gone."
Oh, a cup of grief
I have drunk.
A drink bitter and strong
as to  turn any heart
to night.
Oh, how it turns my lips
cold as the earth
that lies beneath the winter snow.
Oh, how this world is now
a universe of shadow and death
that shall ever remain
till the stones crumble away
and all  the mountains are no more.