Unto the wind he sings.
Beyond the sorrow’s hidden throne
He is no longer king… I look upon the clouds of day
From quiet fields of grass.
I come unto the cabaret
When all the day has passed. Some lively jazz released to winds
Attempts to drown my pain;
Another night now lost to sins –
The arms of sweet Lorraine. There is no sleep to have this night,
No longing may return
The heart that lost its blesséd sight,
Within the hope that burned. No longer do I shed my tears,
But still I mourn Christine;
The alcohol can hide my fears,
And bury souls, unseen… The morning comes again, I sigh,
Returning to the fields.
I’m seeking hope within the cry
I’ve longed to see concealed. I look upon the sky once more;
I close my eyes and fade.
Into the clouds I fly, unsure,
My broken wings displayed. The whippoorwill despairs alone;
Unto the wind I sing.
Beyond my sorrow’s hidden throne
I am no longer king.