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Sorrow ever awaits on joy And has rendered me to pieces You who must stoop to view the skies Stoop amongst the dying Libera eos Domine Stoop to slake this thirst My sorrow can no more lament There is no arm to cling to Stoop to slake this thirst I silently wait, and claw my eyes Libera eos Domine Silent, silently Waiting, to gorge on solitude When will my sorrow begin to pale? And to my head I raise these flowers Yellowed, withered Silent, silently Waiting, to gorge on solitude When will my sorrow begin to pale? From Letras Mania