It seems to be a gentler judgment
But really it is harsh as hail that pierces the skin.
It seems that I may see my Juliet again
But really I fear that we are both dead.
It seems as though my head is spinning
But really the whole world is upside down.
It seems there are other towns, waiting to accept me
But really there is no world without Verona.
It seems as though the Prince is being kind
But really he is cutting off my head with a golden ax.
It seems as though the sun is starting to come out
But really the storm is just beginning.
It seems to be banishment
But really it is death prolonged.
It seems as if I am a young man
But really I am old with pain and misfortune.