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Sarah
Doves circle around
The crecent moon hangs over thi house of dolls \
Wherein Porcilen mannequins cry
Pianos play songs of love
For her, the glass blower's dream
She is dubbed Sarah
She is queen of mirrors
Her lightly weighted body gleams in the sunlight
For she is woven of fine crystal glass
Her beauty sings as golden bells
Her fragileness, a porcelin soul
She may sing coal into perfect gold
Many poets have written of her
Many lovers have played serenades of her
Of her radiant eyes of ruby
Her transpartent figure
Her towering sillouhette
And her song of romance
For her fallen love
The one who slipped through her smooth and delicate hands
Young Sarah
Thy name upon many lips soaked in deciet
thy love lost in a sea of blood
Mixed woth tears of crystal
From thy ruby eyes
Thou sang thy lament for thy love
Young Vincent, a man of shadows
Sank low into the depth of Death's long cloak
As thou sank into the shadows of thy dewelling of dolls
Sharah
Girl of glass
Softly blow the dust from thy arm
Clad thyself
Don thyself in this antique weding gown of white
Thy purity shown
Light ablaze thy ruby eyes
Thy pupils a white carnation
As the one he gave to thee
Immortilized as the armaranth in form
Caze upon thyself in theis mirror
Upon thy lucid beauty
Thy smile shows all
Mezmerized by thy glance they could all fall
Give thee from the fields of rolling green
To the Heavens where Angels sing hymns
But thou does not want part in nations or sky
Sarah, girl of glass
The mannequins of porcelin
And the dolls of thy house
Come for thee, weeping there in wedding dress
As thou sing thy swansong serenade for him
Sweet young Sarah of anqtique glass
Thou broke there upon the darkwood floor
May thy shards rest there, sweet Sarah
Thy soul within
May thy end be immortilized in serenades and laments
Sweet young Sarah...
