Ballad of the Lady of Shallot
The Lady of Shallot
Sat inside of her tower
She saw the outside world
Yet she could never touch it
Could never feel the bristles of laying on a bed of grass
Could never feel the sun touching her skin and could never imagine herself melting away
The wind did not chill her bones because she could never go out to greet it
The lips did not touch hers because they couldn't find her
Did not know of her existence behind her walls
Dreaming and waiting
Listening and imagining
The sun set each day in the window of her tower
Creating a shadow on the floor
She eyed it lovingly as it made it's way across the room up to her bed post
What a joy it must be
To be out there where they are free
Where they converse and smile and play
What a joy it is
How I will never feel that way
For one moment
Maybe for only a little while
I would leave this window and come down
To catch a glimpse of Sir Lancelot
If he happened to not be there and happened to be away
I would gladly lay myself inside my grave
Feeling black butterflies fill up my lungs
Closing my eyes for the last time
Because pain is no less real than love
Sat inside of her tower
She saw the outside world
Yet she could never touch it
Could never feel the bristles of laying on a bed of grass
Could never feel the sun touching her skin and could never imagine herself melting away
The wind did not chill her bones because she could never go out to greet it
The lips did not touch hers because they couldn't find her
Did not know of her existence behind her walls
Dreaming and waiting
Listening and imagining
The sun set each day in the window of her tower
Creating a shadow on the floor
She eyed it lovingly as it made it's way across the room up to her bed post
What a joy it must be
To be out there where they are free
Where they converse and smile and play
What a joy it is
How I will never feel that way
For one moment
Maybe for only a little while
I would leave this window and come down
To catch a glimpse of Sir Lancelot
If he happened to not be there and happened to be away
I would gladly lay myself inside my grave
Feeling black butterflies fill up my lungs
Closing my eyes for the last time
Because pain is no less real than love
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