Lady celeste’s grown quarrelsome and sad She’s of no use at a hunt or a ball Sleepy and sulky and crimson – silk – clad She’s been avoiding us all
Lady celeste’s grown silent and reserved She’s turned into a still life trompe – l’œil No one can tell if she really is there Or is it sunlight at play
Lady celeste’s grown vicious and unkind Jeering her beauty, position and wealth All day just watching her shadow in the sun Plotting against herself She says: Bring me the heads of those who broke into The garden and stole the apples from the cherry tree Bring me the heads of those who drained My fountain and left dead petals on the bottom My dead petals on the bottomTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
