The Robin did not sing

[ubercrispy]

Whither shall the dew morn break?
So that the love-lorn moon could tarry a shorn longer

If its meant to be, then doth by the moonlit night
Shall the tearful robin sing...

But the woods of piercing silence
Belies a tattered heart
Of blood, of wound, of past deeds done

The fearful passage of a death-marked love
yet again echoes a tune of sorrow plagued...

No love, no hope, no glory,
no happy ending...

Ye can't get no love without sacrifice
Doth hefty be the price ye pay

So let fate lead the way,
and Serendipity will one day be at the bay