letra de cassandra - theatre of tragedy
he gave to her, yet tenfold claimed in return –
she hath no life but the one he for her wrought;
proffered to her his walking heart – she turned it down,
reposted with a tell-tale lore of lies and scorn.
prophetess or fond?,
though her parle of truth:
“i can tomorrow – refell me if ye can!”,
yet the kiss and breath – apollo’s bane –
sëer of the future, not of twain,
“sicker!”, quoth c-ssandra.
still, is she lief and quaint in his eye, a sight divine? –
a mistress fueled by his prest haughtiness –
if he did grant, wherefore then did he not foresee,
belike egal as it to him might be?!
prophetess or fond?,
though her parle of truth:
“i can tomorrow – refell me if ye can!”,
yet the kiss and breath – apollo’s bane –
sëer of the future, not of twain,
“sicker!”, quoth c-ssandra.
‘or was he an eried being,
‘or was he weening – alack nay mo;
her naysay’ rought his heart,
her daffing was the grave of all hope –
she belied her own words,
he thought her life, save moreo’er scourge,
she held him august, yet wee;
he left her ne’er without his heart.
though her parle of truth:
“i can tomorrow – refell me if ye can!”,
yet the kiss and breath – apollo’s bane –
sëer of the future, not of twain,
“sicker!”, quoth c-ssandra.
‘or was he an eried being,
‘or was he weening – alack nay mo;
her naysay’ rought his heart,
her daffing was the grave of all hope –
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