Under the maple tree, where gold lays to waste;
ink on the page, her only escape.
Or putting on the paper, this pretty landscape.
Oh that bright bulb, it shone so bright,
but nothing lasts forever, not even her light.
It faded rather quick, and all went dark.
Now her bare feet brush along the bark.

Under the maple tree, where gold lays to waste;
nurtured by the tears that fell from from her face.
She gave up hope, thus the rope.
The future of her past gone away;
everything black, it fades today.

That soft blue soul has turned to gold;
Her mind, midas and unconsoled.
With the care that she always gave so much,
Her mind went blank, and her end adjudge

Under the maple tree, where gold lays to waste;
one more soul has been erased.
upon the sight of faded light,
she as well gave up her fight