Is this sorrow, or thought's fleeting guise?
If you are truth, then what are all the lies?
Weeping branches, for naught, lose thought's soft gleam,
Oh, oh, oh.
What is fear, or the venom of spite?
If you are judged, then what is the night?
What has been done, this time, I implore?
Why silent now, oh, oh, oh?
Is this sorrow, I gently inquire?
If you are truth, what is desire?
What is fault, what the hidden abode?
Why this ending, why the poisoned road?
What is the place, the final abode?
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