Lyrics Skirmishes for Diotima - Rome

Skirmishes for Diotima

Weren’t they like skirmishes
In some great war?
Our kisses so deep but fleeting
Like vultures digging for lice
We were led to the soul by way of skirts
Were led to love by way of knives
We valued what war reversed
Season comes round
We break and fall, that’s all
Season comes round, we break and fall
Seasons come and go, that’s all
She thought me contemptible
No compassion for the fate
Of the little man who finds rest only
In the contempt of the great
And pity moves in funny ways
Let’s not try to be witty when the grave
Lies open before us
Always
Pity moves in funny ways
Let’s not try to be witty when the grave
Lies open before us
Always
Pity moves in funny ways
Let’s not try to be witty when the grave
Lies open before us
Always
Pity moves in funny ways
Let’s not try to be witty when the grave
Lies open before us
Always
Pity moves in funny ways
Let’s not try to be witty when the grave
Lies open before us
Always