But tonight, with no greater reason than before,
Comes a strange forboding -- and my heart is sore.
When I shall lose you,
the sun will shine,
As brightly as it did when you were mine,
But not for me.
The moon in it's brlliant flight,
Will appear to me a a ghastly sight,
And I shall want to tear it from its place,
As it mocks me with its grinning face.
The earth will continue to revolve,
And men will continue to evolve
Their petty, trival schemes -- and I Shall go on living -- though I wish to die.