You probably know

That we like to get low.

You know

About the secrets we keep,

And the treasures we hold…

But I’m willing to bet

On what you don’t know yet…

Yeah, Duendes get lonely too.

Even lost in a weekend’s work,

We can hurt.

Even when we’re playing our games,

We know the depths of spiritual pain.

Yeah, loneliness can rot

Even the greenest Cedar Heart.

It afflicts every soul,

And that’s when the

Fair Folk get low.

To get some decent company

In front of me,

I’d be willing to part with my gold.

I’d be willing to stand in the cold.

Covered by nothing

But the memory of sweet loving,

If it stood to be sold…

But you know, it doesn’t work that way.

The greatest things in life can’t be traded, or paid for.

Especially the fantasy a Duende would wait for,

For a couple hundred years, if he knew he had it to lose.

But usually, it’s long after the laughter has passed, and our greens turn to blues…

That most folks discover,

Without the free love of another, yes Duendes get lonely, too.

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