Is there not more to life than suffering?
At times it seems we live only to die.  
Happiness comes most often in our dreams,
Brushing our souls a moment, passing by.

Where are the hopes of youth? When did they fade?
Ephemeral shades of fragile, tender hearts!
When did we break the promises we made?
How brief the light, how dark the night which starts.

I still remember, once upon a time,
Sweet, evanescent images still come,
Bearing both pain and ecstasy sublime,
In ghostly visions of dreams nearly gone.

If there's meaning to life beyond the pain,
It's so hard to discern through all the rain.