"It is said to carry wandering spirits trapped in this world. As the sun sets, it becomes restless and active."
Oh! What hath I wretched to suffice this fate?
My love, oh my sweet love,
She yonder waits upon the date -
Our marriage day, the angelic, graceful dove.
She shall never be mine,
For I've lost my way,
Yet she is all that is on my mind - in hopes that she will be fine,
A ruined marital day.
They shall find me dead just yonder below the beaten path,
Where I had collapsed upon the road, falling down the hill
This I recall, facing unfortunate wrath -
So the dastardly forces below can attain their fill.
Yet she shall never be mine,
For she shall find another man soon,
And find herself away from the death of malign -
Where I glisten as a star with the moon.
Bells, bells, bells, of the Celestial Tower ring,
Ring, ring, ring, they sweetly sing -
They tell of a new marital day -
Just a year from my death's grieving ring.
Alas, I was correct -
The graceful dove of the heathen of Arceus has deject,
Cast away the memories of her former love,
My sweet, graceful, dove.
Yet the ominous plants of the forest speak their words,
"In order to move forwards,
Thou must remove thy own memories of the wench,
And bury them in the nearest trench -
For eternity, to be Nevermore."
With my thoughts racing galore,
I listened to the spirits of lore,
And sacrificed all thoughts of the woman I adore -
To find my heathen of serenity within the sky,
Where my tears I shall forever dry.