She sits and stands, dances and spins.
Laughs a bit and then cries the saddest tear,
no fear in her eyes, a puzzle unsolvable.
And she knows she is capable of anything,
she can do magic and pull any string.
Sometimes a bit empty, in her thoughts she would sit,
every bit of her skin hot and wet, on the edge of the world.
Her glance deceives without you knowing,
her eyes going far while she disappears
to some other loves, never fully happy
curiously lost, those dark and wild things...
and she can stare at clouds for hours,
at rain, black bird's wings...
And then she slips out my hands,
once strong and now weak as spiderweb.
And she sings, what is life but a dream, deception?
Then I admire her, and want her for myself
to hold on to her for another moment.
And as the sunset watches us, I know
I am the one being left without her, alone.
As she seduces, as she chants and sings,
she is my maiden, my God, the black bird's wings.