Their coquetry still seeks applause from me,
Their coquetry still seeks applause from me.
Appreciators abound, but where, like me,
Appreciators abound, but where, like me?
I once spun tales, a tapestry of lies,
I once spun tales, a tapestry of lies,
And still, they harbor doubt behind their eyes,
And still, they harbor doubt behind their eyes.
Why not this bower, a pilgrimage to love?
Why not this bower, a pilgrimage to love?
Beneath these trees, our spirits did move,
Beneath these trees, our spirits did move.
The hunger for the sight has left my soul,
The hunger for the sight has left my soul,
Or still, the windows would their tales unroll,
Or still, the windows would their tales unroll.
Each night, drunk on thought of your form so fair,
Each night, drunk on thought of your form so fair,
How many jugs shattered beyond compare,
How many jugs shattered beyond compare.
Their coquetry still seeks applause from me,
Their coquetry still seeks applause from me.
Appreciators abound, but where, like me,
Appreciators abound, but where, like me?
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