All along
I’ve been looking through
The stained, the pure
The meaning of clear

With a surreal light
Which bends the prism
And frees me from physical
Prison cell

And all along I’ve been looking through
The edge of iron and steel
The wood, the window
The highest ideal

My window

I hold up your face in the moon
And see the price you have paid
For loving me!
Bathed in pain
Of years of holding me in your heart,
Your eyes are desires burned out in vain!
I hold up your face in the moon
And see the dried up rivers
Of years of holding me in your heart
Yet never being able to get a start!
I hold up your face in the moon
And see relics of a love
Wasted in a desert of despair!