| Cassandra, keep it down
|
| I don’t think they can hear you now
|
| Don’t think they heard you first time ‘round
|
| No they can’t hear you, no Cassandra,
|
| Cassandra, it won’t make sense
|
| not if you think and think again
|
| But still they do say, «life is forgiving
|
| and ends up partnered with beginnings»
|
| And daily, you saw it come
|
| and you gave warning, but couldn’t run
|
| and so you watched until it was broken
|
| and knew the foresight delays no motion
|
| I know it’s awful, I know it’s bruising,
|
| I know you can’t see past the conclusion
|
| but still the world turns upon it’s axis
|
| and we make circles so we can match it And read our lines though we’ve had no practice
|
| Cassandra, keep it down
|
| I don’t think they can hear you now
|
| Don’t think they heard you first time ‘round
|
| No they can’t hear you, there’s no answer
|
| And maybe there’s something great
|
| that gives us meaning, if we wait
|
| but still I’m human, I’m broken-hearted
|
| I see your sundress and your sunglasses
|
| I hear your question, and how you ask it
|
| «What use is love if it always passes?»
|
| «What use is love if it always passes?»
|
| And though they do say, «Life is forgiving,»
|
| what use is life to those who aren’t living?
|
| And though they do say, «Life is forgiving,»
|
| what use is life to those who aren’t living? |