À Travers Le Miroir - Novelists FR

She imprisoned my soul in a bottle\nLike a firefly\nAnd threw it again to the fire\nShe drew me that life on a vacant canvas\nBut she’s gone with its colors\nWe’re playing a duet\nBut the melody of melancholy seems to be the only thing we share\nTell me the secrets of her fantasy\nHow could I believe in this heaven that she promises?\nShe’s calling my name in my dreams\nI can’t hide\nOh she’s in the walls, and she never falls asleep\nI feel her presence\nIn these streets, in my house\nIn these thoughts that I have\nWith her cloak and her big black scythe\nThis sharp taste of iron doesn’t really leave\n(Never really leaves)\nLike calling her ghost through the mirror\nI’m painting my life on this vacant canvas with my own blood\nShe’s calling my name in my dreams\nI can’t hide\nOh she’s in the walls, and she never falls asleep\nI feel her presence\nIn these streets, in my house\nIn these thoughts that I have\nWith her cloak and her big black scythe\nI’m calling her ghost through the mirror\nOh I know that I just can’t hide