Like leaves upon my eyes;
my face, a weeping willow
But you've never liked those kinds of trees
The rain upon the skies
has dried upon my pillow
I fell asleep at prayer while on my knees
while silently screaming,
Won't you help me please!
And now we sit beneath a tree,
but you hate this weeping willow
I think to myself that I love these kinds of trees
But as life abandons me,
I've died upon this pillow
I believe I've died in prayer while on my knees
while silently dreaming
Won't you help me please
Although you've abandoned me
It's me- this weeping willow-
blowing ever so coolly,
surviving in the breeze
But it's dry beneath this tree
It's dried upon this pillow
There's a strength in having tears
hanging down like leaves
They're just the image of me screaming,
Won't you help me please!