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There is a place where she would always be |
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Where the blossom snows between the cankered trees |
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Holding his sour breath |
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He knows she's there |
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Watching the torrent as it flows |
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Watching her soft white dress, it flows |
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In the innocent breezes |
|
Smoothing the stones |
|
Watching her cold white dress, it floats |
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He could see his love like a long forgotten dream |
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He could see his love veiled beneath the stream |
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He could see his love grow pallid and suffer as he weeps |
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His tears fall around her in oil-rainbow streaks |
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He could see his own reflection cloud the stones |
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There is a place where she will always be |
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Where the blossom floats above her through the reeds |
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Where cling the willow roots |
|
His fingers reach |
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Searching for her lost arms to seize |
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Watching her soft white dress, it flows |
|
In the innocent breezes |
|
Smoothing the stones |
|
Watching her cold white dress, it floats |
