No one as simple as I
need claim visions, or tortures
but when you sing it I see it
Oh minstrel, Oh chantuese.
The second worst thing in the world:
the ones I love most driven to tears.

Worst is when I have been the cause.
What wouldn't I do to have it any other way?
How it ever happens is humbling.
And easily, unintentially, repeatedly:
 a nightmare that threatens my sanity.

Like accelerating winds 
twisting this way and that
all around the houses I take refuge in,
mercilessly you sing on.
Please sing it to the end, I can only listen.

Of a world of sorrows, an unjust world,
I scrub the painful detail as anyone might
but angles of my nightmare as yet unseen
your softly invading notes reveal.
I will insist- sing it to the end.