Carla Bruni "Ballade At Thirty-Five" Songtext

Ballade At Thirty-Five

This, no song of ingénueThis, no ballad of innocenceThis, the rhyme of a lady whoFollowed ever the natural bentsThis, a solo of sapienceThis, a chantey of sophistryThis, the sum of experiments, -I loved them until they loved me

Decked in garments of sable hueDaubed with ashes of myriad LentsWearing shower bouquets of rueWalk I ever in penitenceOft I roam, as my heart repentsThrough God's acre of memoryMarking stones, in my reverence"I loved them until they loved me."

Pictures pass me in long review, -Marching columns of dead eventsI was tender, and, often, trueEver a prey to coincidenceAlways knew I the consequenceAlways saw what the end would beWe're as Nature has made us - henceI loved them until they loved me

Princes, never I'd give offenseWon't you think of me tenderly?Here's my strength and my weakness, gents -I loved them until they loved me

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