🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Theatre of Tragedy - Cassandra

 Cassandra
 
 He gave to  yet tenfold claim'd in return -
 She  no life but the one he for her wrought;
 Proffer'd to her his  heart - she turn'd it down,
 Riposted with a tell-tale lore  lies and scorn.
 
  or fond?,
 Tho' her parle  truth:
 "I ken  - refell me if ye can!",
 Yet the kiss and breath -  bane -
 Sëer of the future, not  twain,
 "Sicker!",  Cassandra.
 
 Still, is she lief and quaint  his eyne, a sight divine? -
  mistress fuell'd by his prest haughtiness -
 If he did grant, wherefore then did  not foresee,
 Belike egal as it to  might be?!
 
 Prophetess or 
  her parle of truth:
 "I ken  - refell me if ye can!",
  the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
 Sëer of the future, not  twain,
 "Sicker!", quoth 
 
 'Or was he  eried being,
 'Or was he weening - alack  mo;
 Her naysay' raught his 
 Her  was the grave of all hope -
 She belied  own words,
 He  her life, save moreo'er scourge,
 She held  august, yet wee;
  left her ne'er without his heart.