Oh, weeping daffodil, why do I cry,

A great pouring rain, but I can't bring you life?

Oh, mountain high, why do I climb,

If only to find higher mountains behind?

Oh, beaten path, why do I stay,

If only to travel on further each day?

Oh, dawning day, is not all the same,

As clouds pass on by, and on goes the rain?

Oh, passing life, so quickly to die,

So all fraught with pain, is the meaning but lie?

Oh, many stars, are all sane in the sky,

Or is it all but the same skipping far out of sight?

Oh, curious love, and how you seem to defy,

For in questions of doubt, you've got nothing to hide.

And Oh, mine own brain, how it drives me insane,

All the questions I've asked, is knowledge no more than pain?