🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Theatre of Tragedy - Cassandra

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