Under the willow tree

I have never seen such a thing as you completely enamored by your own generosity.

The second I think I can share a part of myself I must stop.

I will just keep these things to myself and bury them under the willow tree.

What gifts you give are not for me.

What words you spin and spun only for you to weave.

I don't want to have to see the likes of you again.

My heart has been killed and my love so dead.

I will just keep these things to myself and bury them under the willow tree.

Clouded mirrors and unsettled ground is how I feel when you are around.

Nothing left here but shells, shame and disdain.

Nothing ventured nothing gained excepted when you have been played, you never changed.

I will just keep these things to myself and bury them under the willow tree.

I will find her someday.

It was never you or her or any of them.

I will just keep these things to myself and bury them under the willow tree.

I hope this love will learn to grow reaching below to the heart of such stones.