The eyes looked me down as I prayed…
One chance of love, one chance of her,
then the lips opened wide with a smile
and so the man just took a step.
Trembling silence he offered a voice,
the saddest tone that I’ve ever heard.
Clowns will cry for their beloved,
crowns will give her ‘til the end,
and with the blackest joke over the coffin
they’ll bid farewell to unloved death.
I care no much about the silence,
we mimes just stood and stared,
if she loved us in forever silence…
Silence we’ll give as sign for her.
Echoes of love from over darkness,
A cold wind from silent grey,
If I ever knew what would come happen…
I would’ve given my life instead of hers.
We mimes will count in silence
the jokes of life becoming dead,
then the clowns will shout in alleys…
The truth of love becoming grave.
I on the eyes of mortals,
her in the eyes of soil not flesh,
then the clowns in eyes of masters…
The function is out, we call her dead.