The Singer
Love soared from his lips in Major C
But grief has set his soft heart free
Despair has furrowed his delicate brow
So the singer sings of nothing now;
Hope scalded his throat in Major F
But all his hope has froze to death
He takes but the breaths his sobs allow
And the singer sings of nothing now;
He sang in sorrow in C minor
But now, it seems, the pain’s much finer
The answer is plain as to why and how
that the singer sings of nothing now.
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