Who shall pity the poor wretch
Who shall go unsung, unwept, uncared to the grave
Who despite a surfeit of noble emotions
Holds onto that which is base thus more depraved
Who shall pity the poor wretch
Who shall go unsung, unwept, uncared to the grave
Who inspite of standing at the lip of the yawning chasm
Stands alone, yet with conviction and thus braver
Who shall pity the poor wretch
Who shall go unsung, unwept, uncared to the grave
Who inspite of a choice of kind words
Shall to coarser and rude words always remain a slave
Who shall pity the poor wretch
Who shall go unsung, unwept, uncared to the grave
Who inspite of being steadfast in his devotion
Faces the sting of indecision from heaven's creation
Ah, the tragedy of a pure love gone to waste
Welling up as such, it does leave a bitter taste
Well then, dusky damsel, I suggest you make haste
Lest your past catches up, making you less chaste
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