Indeed I’m mad, for I have seen,
not with my eyes, but in my dreams—
running alone under the sky,
with heaven above me flying by.
For who alone would scream in pain,
when he alone will scream in vain?
He alone in darkness sings,
denied those heavenly angel wings.
Along we walk in forests cold.
We laugh, we sing, and we grow old.
Until we find ourselves again,
where death and darkness we befriend.
Till peace we find in wayward song,
alone we’ll walk a road so long.
Alone as we walk it—on and on.
Until some day in falling rain,
alone at last without the pain.
Until we rest our worried heads,
warm and at home, alone in bed.