Paroles Sylvia I de Butterfly Assassins

Textes et Paroles de Sylvia I

The event of our lifetime
Is almost underway.
The children laugh and sing;
Let them play.
The eyes of innocence look on
And make another wish,
For wishes can come true
When they are pure.

A candle burns; wax trickles down
To rest on weathered wood
Between two chairs, set facing
Through the glow.
The winter wind comes wandering in
To freeze the silent pose;
No matter how it tries,
The candle glows.

No matter how it tries,
The candle glows.
No matter how it tries...


In one chair sits Sylvia
With sullen eyes and a weak chin,
Next to Father Time
With his shoulders back and grim.
They've been sitting there with steady glares
Unblinking and unchanged,
Contemplating something
Dark and lonely.

They've been sitting there for hours, days,
And weeks and months and years,
Waiting for their moment to arrive.
The anthem plays its melody
That's in and out of time,
Goin, 'la la la la da da da da da'


The light that never flickers
Only has one point of view.
Surrounding darkness makes itself
At home.
The girl was of fine color
And was shaped of solid gold.
The man was pallid
White and set in stone.

The rose with frozen
Petals never withers in the sun.
The mind that never learns
Never forgets.
The winter wind comes wandering in
To freeze the heart and skin;
No matter how it tries,
The candle glows.


Twikling lights and merry men
Are dancing in the street
As shining figures bustle
To and fro.
The snow is softly falling
Like a blanket in the cold.
With flakes that warm
The hearts of those who let them

There is one place along the way
That's dimly lit and grey,
But no one seems to notice
In their joy.
The winter wind comes wandering in
To hear its own self blow;
No matter how it tries,
The candle glows

No matter how it tries,
The candle glows.
No matter how it tries,
The candle glows.


In one chair sits Sylvia
With sullen eyes and a weak chin,
Next to Father Time,
With her shoulders black and grim.
Their somber stares all-steady glares
Unblinking and unchanged,
Contemplating something
Dark and lonely.

They've been sitting there for hours, days,
And weeks and months and years,
Waiting for their moment to arrive.
Finally a slow grin played
Across her daring face,
And the old bag grew a look of sudden horror


With that the old man died,
Smashed his wrinkled, balding head.
And the girl got up and left the room
And went out into the winter wind, and...

C'était les paroles de Sylvia I
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