Don’t try to build some nest
in the ruins of our home.
Your tears will go to waste –
they can’t bring back what’s gone.
Now you love me? Now’s too late.
Never again can your tears remake
our ruined home, our broken nest –
our lives left bare, bereft.
If some night you come
by the ruins of our home,
you’ll find me wild with grief
in a garden overgrown.
Now you love me? Now’s too late.
Never again can your tears remake
our ruined home, our broken nest –
our lives left bare, bereft.