The Weeping Tree

Mage of all magic I fall on my knees.
Worms eating the dead are much better than me.
Wise words show my wickedness for all to see
Bend for the weeping tree.

Where lies my poor heart but here in the new?
The past faded and withered like the dead picked bloom.
My Lady I love for my true self she sees.
Never the weeping tree.

Why is it that freedom and happiness are crimes?
Like stealing when starving or begging in grime.
The magic of true love, it never can be.
Because of the weeping tree.

But grieve not my lady, I'll soon be your lord.
A grave stone our castle, the grass blades my sword.
The worms of the dead our subjects will be.
Under the weeping tree.