My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you,
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you,
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you,
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you.
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you,
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you.
Who first, did the whisper bloom,
To whom, and in what forgotten room?
Which lover, on a whispered plea,
Dared to carve love's immensity?
Across what river, fire-laced and deep,
Where death itself forever does sleep,
Did a mad soul its passage find?
How did this longing grip the mind?
How did the echoes start to ring,
In every heart, in every spring,
Of whispered vows, in every stage?
In every heart, on every page...
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you,
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you,
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you,
My heart, a tethered moon, aches for you.
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