Will you ever come back from the river,
oh beautiful lover,
to go singing again under the stars?
And will you ever realize it's not worth falling,
oh little lost darling,
for the ones who could never stop you from your fall?
Angels have wings made of air and love,
unfortunate girl,
they cannot help you with their intangible power.
And will they ever stop singing,
Ophelia,
about the smell of your flowers? |