| she held tight to her photograph
|
| it transpires mystery
|
| the sun ain’t rose and set for days
|
| with echos of her agony
|
| what good’s a heart without a home
|
| and no one to call her own
|
| the waters rushed up to bathe her
|
| of her time and drown the memories
|
| what’s more beautiful than blood
|
| caked on her velvet skin
|
| the dress she wore that night remains
|
| awash in scarlet sin
|
| a haunting tale of sorrow
|
| underneath the murky deep
|
| there’s still a longing in those eyes
|
| it hasn’t ceased to be her broken spirit still exists
|
| the pain calls her up to rise
|
| and though i wanted to dismiss as a trick of light or in my mind
|
| standing there so eloquent she cries
|
| sing to me and ease my troubles, boy
|
| this afterlife has known no joy
|
| because a death of love took me before my time
|
| sing to me and provide peaceful rest
|
| for though i’m gone, i can’t forget
|
| sing a song and croon to me in the midnight
|
| sing to me her broken spirit still exists
|
| the pain calls her up to rise
|
| and though i wanted to dismiss as a trick of light or in my mind
|
| standing there so eloquent she cries
|
| sing to me and ease my troubles, boy
|
| this afterlife has known no joy
|
| because a death of love took me before my time
|
| sing to me and provide peaceful rest
|
| for though i’m gone, i can’t forget
|
| sing a song and croon to me in the midnight
|
| sing to me sing to me sing to me sing to me |