|
Memories Of The Tragedienne
In the tragic play A marionette of the clock Pages filled with a chronicle in blood
Scents and sights,come back to me My life in memories, makes me want to go Try and hold on to what's left of all The golden scenes i forever want to know
The curtains are lifted Reveal a spectacle of rare 'til the final act i am your tragic one
Soaring in the wind Sounds - so transcendent So faint and softly Carries me above
Scents and sights...
|