| The last time I saw her face
|
| Her eyes were bathed in starlight
|
| And her hair hung long
|
| The last time she spoke to me
|
| Her lips were like the scented flowers
|
| Inside a rain-drenched forest
|
| But that was so long ago
|
| That I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
|
| And if time could heal the wounds
|
| I would tear the threads away
|
| That I might bleed some more
|
| The last time I walked with her
|
| Her laughter was the steeple bells
|
| That ring to greet the morning sun
|
| A voice that the ground we walked upon
|
| Those were good days
|
| The last time I held her hand
|
| Her touch was autumn spring
|
| And summer and winter too
|
| The last time I let go of her
|
| She walked away into the night
|
| I lost her in the misty streets
|
| A thousand months, a thousand years
|
| When other lips will kiss her eyes
|
| A million miles beyond the moon, that’s where she is
|
| The last time I saw her face
|
| Her eyes were bathed in starlight
|
| And million miles beyond the moon, that’s where she is
|
| The last time I saw her face
|
| Her eyes were bathed in starlight
|
| And she was walked alone
|
| The last time she kissed my cheek
|
| Her lips were like the wilted leaves
|
| Upon the autumn covered hills
|
| Resting on the frozen ground
|
| The seeds of love lie cold and still
|
| Beneath a battered marking stone, it lies forgotten |