Like this blond angel
drowned in the Durance1,
like a demon,
oh, you'll unravel yours.
Like the one-eyed bird,
like Jeanne of France2
in your insanity
you'll unravel yours
We think ourselves in love,
we think ourselves fiercely rooted,
still it always comes
the time of unraveled ties.
We think ourselves in love,
we feel besotted with eternity,
still it always comes
the time of unraveled ties.
Like the adder,
like the queen of the meadow,
dead land,
oh, you'll unravel yours.
Like the meek woman,
like the fickle man,
when time to forget come,
oh, you'll unravel yours.
Still it always comes
the time of unraveled ties.
The time of unraveled ties.
1. a river in Sout-Eastern France2. a rather obscure 15th century queen recently canonised ; nothing to do with Joan of Arc