Fill my morose heart with sorrow,
So I can wake up in grief tomorrow,
To be chased by agony's harrow,
And in screech in pain of love's arrow.

Fill my cup with bitter wine,
Drink until I am numb or fine,
The grief has my heart to dine,
When my sun sets, does it shine?

Fill my ears with somber criers,
And surround my body in hellfires,
To forget what this heart inspires,
And to banish love's wretched desires.