When I look at you and you me,
I know for sure that I am sick;
I see the signs and hear the words,
The same words that sip from closed lips;
I know for sure that I am sick. Lo, the sun is in your eyes and there is glint in hers;
See the dismay in their eyes, and the pity alike,
For now I am sick, I am so sick.
Oh opulent sun, look to me with grace,
I spread me out before you weak,
Reach for me and kill the shivers;
Let me burn alive for a new race,
Then shall I heal and be beautiful again;
Like sunlight burning at midnight;
Like a apple of gold among the silvers,
For now I am sick; I am so sick.