Sought His help, the One above,
Yet all my faith began to fade.
Closed my eyes, pictured my love,
Yet no one was to me displayed.

Fled to nature, strange was the circle of affairs,
The flowers were wild and clouds beguiled
By the darkness; the rains were of despair,
That cried the bitter naivety of the child—

That loved this world and all there to it,
That cared for everyone he had within—
Whose future robbed him his childish wit,
Like a brother raised apart from his twin—

On a dusty chair, playing my broken fife,
The menu had warmth, intimacy, no espresso—
But I ordered not in the café of life,
Yet all they did, was serve me deppresso.