Despair is my afternoon tea
And sometimes, my lamp in the evening
But if it's this easily explained
Then I wouldn't be this troubled.

My sights can only reach my eyelids
So there's no use climbing up that mountain
When the top is as dull as the plains
And the birds there are as silent as the lamb.

But of course I can hear far beyond that.
It is said that above all those twigs
And cherry flavored paper
There's a hymn that never fades out.