Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear his heartfelt cries?
Below the branches, here about,
Do not you sense his fear and doubt?
Side glistening rivers, sparkling streams,
Do not you hear his woeful screams?
Upon the meadows, touched with dew,
Do not you see his hearts a'skew?
Beneath the thousand twinkling stars,
Do not you feel his jagged scars?
Seek not his mournful heart kind breeze,
For you'll not find it 'mongst these trees.
It's scattered 'cross the moonlit skies,
Accompanied by heartfelt sighs.
It's drifting o're the gentle rain,
A symbol of his silent pain.
It's buried 'neath the meadow fair,
Conjoined with all the sorrow there.
It's lost among the stars this night,
Too far to ease his quiet fright.
No gentle winds, seek not his heart,
For simply ... it has torn apart.