She sits in a room
Of gold and of silver,
Pretending she's happy,
Pretending she's there;
But if I do look at her
I will know better:
She's just like an old lady
On a rocking chair.
Her hair is so pretty,
Here eyes are so blue.
The wood is so smooth
And the light is so yellow;
Look at her glowing skin,
Feel down her fire,
So why? Why does she sit there
Looking so mellow?
Mellow...mellow...mellow melancholy.
And the sun shines its hazy heat
For the last time.
The wind will break out
And the rain will start falling;
Storm and toil in the
Rippling lake of life
She will cry out like a
Dying wolf calling.
Fire burns her
Red silky dress,
That flows and follows
Along the boiling river;
Thrust open the door!
Let the cold in
To warm her -
To cradle her toiling shiver.
Mellow...mellow...mellow melancholy...
And thus she waits, but now here I am.
I'm taking a step - and a step too far for her.
Just as the knife would slip into her heart,
A different one will cut a different skin.
Out of the storm...
Out of the rain...
Destiny broken -
Stop playing this game.
Dance, and dance in the moonlight
With all the leaves
All the trees.
All the
Roses...
Mellow...mellow...mellow melancholy.
Shadows from the past
Fading into a future
Like fire and water that die into smoke.
The smoke will fly, high
Into the sky,
To flow and burn
Forever with me.
She turns around.
Her rosy cheeks.
Her rosy lips.
Her tulip eyes.
She holds my hand.
Her silky skin.
Her silky breath.
Her mmmellting shadow...
