You were mine long ago,
Verdant eyes alight like a broken window.
Yet, with me remains your pale, green saguaro-tree,
Thistles swaying 'neath a gentle breeze.
I was born a sad, old man:
Tired heart, weary hands;
She was a broken woman, but that woman was mine.
So, winged seraphs of Heaven, You who bore my love away,
Stamp my heart with your iron brand.
Life's as hard as rusted nails,
I'm beaten down like a twisted railroad spike.
This whole world's full of actors and liars.
Why won't you carry me away to meet my Kate that you might envy us again!