🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Theatre of Tragedy - Cassandra

 Cassandra
 
  gave to her, yet tenfold claim'd in return -
  hath no life but the one he for her wrought;
 Proffer'd to her his wauking heart - she  it down,
 Riposted with a tell-tale  of lies and scorn.
 
 Prophetess or 
 Tho' her parle  truth:
  ken to-morrow - refell me if ye can!",
 Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane 
 Sëer of  future, not of twain,
 "Sicker!",  Cassandra.
 
 Still,  she lief and quaint in his eyne, a sight divine? -
  mistress fuell'd by his prest haughtiness -
 If he did grant, wherefore then did he  foresee,
 Belike  as it to him might be?!
 
  or fond?,
 Tho' her parle  truth:
 "I ken  - refell me if ye can!",
 Yet the kiss and  - Apollo's bane -
  of the future, not of twain,
 "Sicker!", quoth 
 
 'Or was he  eried being,
 'Or was he weening  alack nay mo;
 Her  raught his heart,
 Her daffing was the grave of all  -
 She belied her  words,
 He thought her  save moreo'er scourge,
 She held him august, yet 
 He left her ne'er  his heart.