When he, the sun, in all his glory, sets,
With rolling waves of red on golden skies,
The day has died ablaze with no regrets,
Yet in the dark, I weep for his demise.
Why should I mourn? The night is mortal too;
A new day waits to meet me at the dawn,
But yesterday was charming, sweet and true,
And I won't sleep, for yesterday is gone.
Instead I weep, for truth is found in tears,
And darkness keeps its promises, at least.
I'll scorn the day at sunrise as he nears,
And ever turn my back upon the east.
For yesterday, yes yesterday was right.
If only yesterday outlived the night.