The mind of Mona is a scary place.
She's an anguished face in an unnamed race
Of creatures that only know regret and shame
Where joy and depression hold hands.

The only home for Mona on earth is this dreary plain.
It is vast and dark, but even still it gives a sense of shame.
If one was to visit here, this is what they’d first see –
A no-name doll without a face, hanging from a limbless tree.

Sorrow makes the air gloomy with decay,
But the light of the tower clock does imitate the day.
And the moon is never more than a thin crescent
Alas rain is incessant and pain is incessant