lunedì, gennaio 24, 2011

She said, "There is no reason 
And the truth is plain to see." 
But I wandered through my playing cards 
And they would not let her be 
One of sixteen vestal virgins 
Who were leaving for the coast 
And although my eyes were open wide
They might have just as well been closed 

And so it was that later 
As the miller told his tale 
That her face, at first just ghostly, 
Turned a whiter shade of pale

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