|
Even beauty must die: |
|
That which subdues both gods and mortals |
|
Leaves the steely breast of the stygian Zeus untouched |
|
As I wake I hear these words in my mind |
|
Their meaning is one that I cannot find |
|
My head it pounds with a tempered thought |
|
Did my eyes betray that which I sought? |
|
What was his gift for I can't ignore |
|
The question posed now as before |
|
Once and once only did love soften the lords of the shadow |
|
Then, on the very threshold, he sternly revoked his gift |
|
What was his gift for I can't ignore |
|
The question posed now as before |
|
I can't begin to realise |
|
That I'm the one to which they empathise |
|
Aphrodite herself has no power |
|
To assuage the hurt of her lover |
|
His tender flesh ripped by the cruel boar |
|
Nor can the godlike hero be saved, deathless mother |
|
At the Scaean gate when, falling, he achieves his date |
|
She rises out of the sea |
|
With all the daughters of Nereus |
|
And the mourning begins for her glorious son |
|
All good things must come to pas, too soon |
|
Perfection dies |
|
Trusting vanity, fading |
|
Perfection dies |
|
Look back, the mirror shows, Narsus |
|
Perfection dies |
|
Grieving for what I lost, slowly |
|
Perfection dies |
|
See! Where the gods are weeping |
|
And the goddesses, all of them |
|
Weeping that beauty passes |
|
Perfection will always die |
|
Good, a lament in the mouths of loved ones |
|
What is common goes to Orcus unsung |
|
And the mourning begins for her glorious son... |
|
All good things must come to pas, too soon |
|
Perfection dies |
|
Trusting vanity, fading |
|
Perfection dies |
|
Look back, the mirror shows, Narsus |
|
Perfection dies |
|
Grieving for what I lost, slowly |
|
Perfection dies |