the second; goddess of beauty;
fire and summer;
the cynic;
too sad,
too tired,
to watch the world without bitterness
there can never be another his like
the cold shadows of sorrow reach ever further
her mind sleeps and decays in winter and rain
she is not what she imagined she would be-
the cold shadows of sorrow reach ever further,
her pity is withered and buried away
she is not what she imagined she would be
the eyes in the mirror are a stranger's-
her pity is withered and buried away
but his preposterous hope is still touching
the eyes in the mirror are a stranger's
she knows he is still a good man-
his preposterous hope is still touching
her mind sleeps and decays in winter and rain
but she knows he is still a good man,
there will not be another his like.
