From the recording Splendour + Misery
Not for the faint at heart, not at seventeen.
You'd tear my heart apart, to know what that means.
If not for the finer arts, I'd have found true love.
We were chosen from the start, it's in our blood.
Our time was sweet but brief, or did I speak too soon?
And like Serena Joy, you always knew.
We couldn't tear our eyes away, they were only globes to gaze.
We couldn't find words to say, not for several days.
Our future seen a world apart, a mirror held askew.
And as for my throttled heart, this was nothing new.
We brush thighs again, just in passing by,
To remind the sky again, of better times.
And I'm dreading scorn from friends, and only you know why,
For to relive again, is flint to fire.
This is the tale of 'vaggio, or one who felt we were through.
Look like woman, think like man, and I was neither for you.