Cassandra (Live)

He gave to her
Yet tenfold
Claim'd in return
She hath no life
But the one
He for her wrought
Proffer'd to her
His wauking heart
She turn'd it down
Ripost'd
With a tell tale lore
Of lies and scorn

Prophetess or fond?
Tho' her parle of truth
I ken to morrow
Refell me if ye can!
Yet the kiss and breath, Apollo's bane
Sëer of the future, not of twain
Sicker!, quoth Cassandra

'Or was he an éri'd being
'Or was he weening, alack nay mo
Her naysay' raught his heart
Her daffing was the grave of all hope

She beli'd her own words
He thought her life, save moreo'er scourge
She held him august yet wee
He left her ne'er without his heart

Tho' her parle of truth
I ken to morrow
Refell me if ye can!
Yet the kiss and breath, Apollo's bane
Sëer of the future, not of twain
Sicker!, quoth Cassandra

'Or was he an éri'd being
'Or was he weening, alack nay mo
Her naysay' raught his heart
Her daffing was the grave of all hope.