The moon is her mother
I ran far for another
The wind, with fear, I flee
In my eyes anxiously
I see
A pale lighthouse
Glowing still
Oh the yellowing appeal
Your hellish coast
Sinking stones
Bury the dead along the shore
Oh the weight of sorrow
Little is the time we borrow
A storm will rise on the sea
It fills my heart with envy
So I seek
A pale lighthouse
Glowing still
Oh the yellowing appeal
Your hellish coast
Sinking stones
Bury the dead along the shore
The tide will rise
And wash away
All the love we ever craved
The waves will grow
Graciously
Fawning for only what is seen