Unable to bear the famine of a medley,
I search for staccatos to startle me.
I search for staccatos to startle me.
Focoso fingers play inconsolably,
drowning in somber, cryptic melodies.
My lovelorn heart cries dolente, dolente,
which Aria will bring me love?
It aches in rhythms appassianato, in
drowning in somber, cryptic melodies.
My lovelorn heart cries dolente, dolente,
which Aria will bring me love?
It aches in rhythms appassianato, in
mesto sounds of useless mystery.
Do you hear the songs I sing lacrimoso?
How many hymns will humble you?
Some ballad must bring you poco a poco.
I hear you coming slowly, sorely.
Do you hear the songs I sing lacrimoso?
How many hymns will humble you?
Some ballad must bring you poco a poco.
I hear you coming slowly, sorely.
