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Just as the last petal wilts,
like the last lover grieves,
your hand slipping from my grasp
brings the time of a thousand silent eves.
And I cannot see through this,
this longing of why—
why so many tears must fall
when time has come to say Goodbye.

Yet even in solitude, in silence,
my tears cannot wash away, cannot fade,
the memories that dance surrounded in darkness,
illuminating the bleak with their brilliance arrayed.
Yet I cannot see through this,
this longing, I cry—
cry tears of ruin, devastation,
of which I can no longer deny.

Reaping that which I have sown,
hands held firm around scythe,
forever harvesting the seeds that have grown,
seeds planted by no more than the very hands of my past life.
And I cannot see through this,
this longing, I sigh—
sigh, pass aside, and away, with the tears that have fallen,
those of which I can no longer defy.

So take me as I am
and have my aching hands bound;
a crimson river trickles down
without a whisper, a sound.
And I cannot see through this,
this longing, I lie—
lie awake and broken in shadow,
shedding blood and tears I can no longer deny.

But in the darkness, I see,
I remember your face;
I remember the beauty, the splendor,
of your unspoken grace.
Yet I cannot see through this,
this longing of my—
my immortal darkness of which,
I can no longer deny.

Bless and cleanse and relieve,
this shadow inside;
with and in only your love
can my mortal heart confide.
And I am beginning to see through this,
this longing, shy away, shy,
shy away, phantom of shadow—
your final end draws nigh.

And just as the last petal wilts,
like the last lover grieves,
I know there is hope, reassurance,
in the coming of eves.
And I can now see through this,
this longing that cries—
cries out a song of forever, and if this exists
then there exists no more Goodbyes.