Early tales of love so sweet,
Promises that now seem so bleak,
He hardly holds you while you sleep,
And barely touches you while praying and his fingers slip.
To have and to hold, for rich or for poor,
Those vows said for those that go to war,
Now hunts her soul and makes her mourn,
For the love that’s gone and so forlorn.
No friend or foe to smile or cry with,
No bird or tree to share a little wit,
Except the child she bore in blood,
Can she share her falling flood.
She cowers in corners afraid and lost,
When she should have being basking in love,
In her pain and joy she stands alone,
And visits no grudge upon his home.
For him she has shed some blood not once,
The first in form of a child, the second was a waste of chance,
A life of misery that knows all sorrows,
A story unending that will have more tomorrows.
He who has an ear, they say let him hear,
And she who cannot hear, let her to the sea be bare,
For it be better to drown in fear,
Than to live one’s life in love so unfair.
dido 4 eva