Medieval Flutes
Medieval Flutes
Strings and lutes
Playing to my whims
She the student
I, the old one with musical overtures
She knows, she knows
Myself captivated yet I cant let it show
She knows, she knows
We play roulette, I love, she gives romance a go
I kiss her lips
Telling her this is but a seasons fading desire
My love is true; her blue eyes pierce the soul of this fool
She will love another, sooner than sad harps can play
Melodies of melancholy
She will leave with succulent sweetness
While the professor will contemplate loves demise
Buried in romance, burdens of love attack this darkened day
When a season makes its last breathless gasp
Its very survival is at play, struggle to the last
Who of us wishes to die so young, so tender
When one more love has yet to be embraced and softly
Rendered
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