Comfort me, friends, when I come back.
Can you promise that I will come back?
Will there be a home to come back to?
Or will you be different persons then
To whom I can never truly return?
Would you like to hear my voice again,
The same way I wish to hear yours?
Or would it drive us all mad–
To hear, and not to see–
Or to see, but not yet to hold?
Let madness take us then;
As gold turns the mind of a king,
Let the present absence turn ours.
Forgive me wishing harm on you;
It is my solace to be missed.
Over the seas or under mountains,
They say the road goes ever on–
Or will we all once more sit down
To laughter and a tale or two
Over wine and freshly-baked cake?