| This bleak realisation
|
| Everything comes to an end
|
| A dying swan
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| Only the mind can turn back time
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| A pale white figure in the dark
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| A palace of silence, she breathes coldness
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| In this hall, in every dusty corner of this old theatre
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| The sound of clapping hands that she misses so much
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| The tingling sensation when everyone looks up at her beautiful face
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| Just a little breeze of appreciation
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| One last time, she wants to be th swan
|
| With her gracile stretchd legs and the colossal wings
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| This bitter yearning to burn the calling limelight
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| One last time, she wants to be the swan queen
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| The flying pale white figure in the dark
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| When the last white feather falls, a swan lake full of tears
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| Every time it hurts a little more to leave the stage without a stroke of wings
|
| When the last white feather falls, a swan lake full of tears
|
| The bewitched princess with the velvety plumage
|
| With her gracile stretched legs and the colossal wings
|
| One last time, she wants to be the swan queen
|
| The flying pale white figure in the dark
|
| When the last white feather falls
|
| A swan lake full of tears
|
| Don’t forget me, please
|
| Ignore my injured feet
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| Don’t look at me
|
| If I start to weep
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| This silent hall, this bleak realisation
|
| Only the mind can turn back time
|
| A dying swan with broken wings |