In Reverent Fear - La Foret lyrics

rate me

In a quaint French restaurant In a village at dark Waitress sings, I picked a violet from my mothers grave. In the streets the children play Like the famed 18th century And your flesh paces through the drifting leaves I dont care that much for living I dont care if its not right I just want these gates to open I dont mind In a quaint French restaurant In a village at dark A fellow tempts his wife of twenty years A fair and young Emma Bovary Threads her hands where the senses dream Still your flesh paces through the drifting leaves Only you neednt know it now Truly I wish not to say That all men kill the only thing they love I dont care if we just ravage Lay waste to these great towers Oh how our blood will pour down But that doesnt sound nice to you Waitress, cheque please.