Window window to my soul,

Come and tell me what they stole,

What was there and isn’t now,

What was lost and can’t be found,

Is there truly toil in sin,

Pay your weight of gold with tin,

Have you seen the star-crossed lovers,

Laid to rest beside their mothers,

When the fury within us turns,

Leaving bright and glossy burns,

Deep within if not without,

Transforming golden boys to louts,

All that’s left to peer within,

And wonder ever what might have been