I yearn for what was, and now is lost.
seeking wisdom, beyond the tomb.
but her heart is as cold,as midnight frost.
A gypsy woman whose palms I did cross
a fourtune fortold, from a rustic rune.
I yearn for what was, and now is lost.
The spoken words scattered and tossed
are defining my dancing tune
But her heart is as cold,as midnight frost.
Impenetrable, as the battle is lost
left watching, the midnight moon
I yearn for what was, and now is lost
But her heart is as cold,as midnight frost.
13/1/2005
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