Intro: E
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I once loved a girl, her skin it was bronze.
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With the innocence of a lamb, she was gentle like a fawn.
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I courted her proudly but now she is gone,
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Gone as the season she's taken.
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Through young summer's breeze, I stole her away
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From her mother and sister, though close did they stay.
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Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day,
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With strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us.
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Of the two sisters, I loved the young.
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With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one.
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The constant scapegoat, she was easily undone
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By the jealousy of others around her.
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For her parasite sister, I had no respect,
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Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect.
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Countless visions of the other she'd reflect
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As a crutch for her scenes and her society.
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Myself, for what I did, I cannot be excused,
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The changes I was going through can't even be used,
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For the lies that I told her in hopes not to lose
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The could-be dream-lover of my lifetime.
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With unknown consciousness, I possessed in my grip
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A magnificent mantelpiece, though its heart being chipped,
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Noticing not that I'd already slipped
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To a sin of love's false security.
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From silhouetted anger to manufactured peace,
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Answers of emptiness, voice vacancies,
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Till the tombstones of damage read me no questions but, "Please,
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What's wrong and what's exactly the matter?"
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And so it did happen like it could have been foreseen,
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The timeless explosion of fantasy's dream.
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At the peak of the night, the king and the queen
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Tumbled all down into pieces.
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"The tragic figure!" her sister did shout,
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"Leave her alone, God damn you, get out!"
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And I in my armor, turning about
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And nailing her to the ruins of her pettiness.
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Beneath a bare light bulb the plaster did pound
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Her sister and I in a screaming battleground.
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And she in between, the victim of sound,
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Soon shattered as a child 'neath her shadows.
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All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight.
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I gagged twice, doubled, tears blinding my sight.
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My mind it was mangled, I ran into the night
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Leaving all of love's ashes behind me.
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The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet.
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The words to say I'm sorry, I haven't found yet.
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I think of her often and hope whoever she's met
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Will be fully aware of how precious she is.
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Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me,
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"How good, how good does it feel to be free?"
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And I answer them most mysteriously,
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"Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?"
