Monument
The Cruxshadows Lyrics

I never wrote you a love song
I was never able to express my love for you in words

somehow words could not express what I needed to say.
I wanted to say so much but couldn't find the right words

and so I never wrote you a love song
I chose not to write a love song for you

and now its much, much too late 'cause you've gone away
But now that you're gone, it's too late to share my feelings with you

But I will build this monument
I will create something to remember our love

to remember all the love we once had
So that I will never forget the love we shared

and I'll close my eyes and make it how it used to be
I will remember our love as it was before

I swear I never stopped loving you with everything I am
I loved you with all my heart, and always will

and it hurts so much to think you stopped loving me
It pains me to believe that you don't love me anymore

you stopped loving me...
And that realization breaks my heart

So I wish I'd had written you a love song
I regret not expressing my love more clearly

and somehow you understood what it feels to be me
If only you had known how deeply I loved you

because the Angel loves the sprite forever
True, pure love lasts forever, like that of an angel and a sprite

and does it unconditionally
And always without conditions or expectations

excerpt from La Belle Dame Sans Merci by W.B. Keats - 1819
Part of the poem La Belle Dame Sans Merci by W.B. Keats, which highlights the theme of unrequited love

I met a lady in the meads,
The artist encounters a beautiful woman in a meadow

Full beautiful--a faery's child,
The woman is strikingly beautiful, and appears otherworldly

Her hair was long, her foot was light,
She has long hair and moves gracefully

And her eyes were wild.
Her gaze is intense and captivating

I made a garland for her head,
The artist makes a headdress for her

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
He also makes bracelets and a fragrant belt for her

She looked at me as she did love,
The woman looks at him with love in her eyes

And made sweet moan.
She makes a beautiful, enchanting sound

I set her on my pacing steed,
The artist helps the woman onto his horse

And nothing else saw all day long,
He spends the entire day with her, not noticing anything else around him

For sidelong would she bend, and sing
The woman sings and moves gracefully the whole time

A faery's song.
Her song has an otherworldly quality to it

She found me roots of relish sweet,
The woman gathers sweet roots for the artist

And honey wild, and manna dew,
She also brings wild honey and sweet dew

And sure in language strange she said--
She speaks in a foreign, unusual language

"I love thee true."
She declares her love for him

She took me to her elfin grot,
The woman takes the artist to her secret, mystical realm

And there she wept and sighed full sore,
There, she cries and sighs heavily

And there I shut her wild eyes
He closes her eyes gently

With kisses four.
He kisses her forehead, eyes, and cheeks four times

And there she lulled me asleep
The woman puts him to sleep

And there I dreamed--ah! woe betide!
He has a sad and disturbing dream

The latest dream I ever dreamed
A dream that has stayed with him, haunting him ever since

On the cold hill's side.
Set on a cold, lonely hillside

I saw pale kings and princes too,
The artist sees pale, ghostly kings and princes

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
All are pale and sickly, with a very ominous presence

They cried--"La Belle Dame sans Merci
They warn him of the danger of falling in love with a woman who shows no mercy

Hath thee in thrall!"
He has fallen under the spell of the woman

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
The kings and warriors beg for mercy and look extremely emaciated

With horrid warning gaped wide,
Their mouths are open as if screaming in warning

And I awoke and found me here,
He abruptly wakes up, realizing it was only a dream

On the cold hill's side.
Still on the same cold, lonely hillside

And this is why I sojourn here
This is why he stays in this place

Alone and palely loitering,
He spends his time alone, looking sad and unoccupied

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
The plant life around him is dead and brown

And no birds sing.
There are no signs of life, including the absence of birdsong