|
Now the bough breaks |
|
The books I read |
|
Said you were a fragile kid |
|
Just as I imagined it |
|
Your story goes: |
|
Another nosebleed |
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Roses on the pillowcase |
|
The fever breaks, |
|
And you're back on earth again |
|
You rehearse |
|
In the living room |
|
The nursemaid comes mid-afternoon |
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To say "you've practiced long enough today" |
|
She takes your bow |
|
It's suppertime |
|
But oh, your only appetite |
|
Was fixed on the chaconne you'd hoped to play |
|
So soon you're off |
|
To the academy |
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The honours |
|
And the accolades |
|
First a darling |
|
Then a marvel |
|
When we met |
|
I was still a young girl |
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But you had changed, already famous |
|
Your name was a contagion |
|
You were vain and hard to take |
|
All the same, I was brave |
|
How the tides rise |
|
Oh, how the tides rise |
|
I don't suppose you'd tell the truth |
|
So I won't ask you anymore |
|
All the things that we do |
|
To pass the time between the wars |
|
I don't regret a single day |
|
Heard your chaconne on every stage |
|
But your love sleeps in a velvet case |
|
So what'd you bring me for? |
|
What'd you bring me for? |
|
Yeah, oh |
|
I hear you keep your pretty wife alive |
|
On only brie |
|
They say a dozen years ago |
|
She could have passed for me |
|
She doesn't trust you with the baby |
|
Maybe better that way |
|
Safe in your study |
|
Going grey |
|
You're at your best |
|
When you're alone |
|
Above the fray |
|
With your chaconne |
|
Now the bells toll |
