🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Theatre of Tragedy - Cassandra

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