Strolling under harbor lights
Lilja reads a line
Poor Tatiana
In another library
Rochester arrives
Oh lord, he's half-blind
Lancelot and Guinevere
Came nowhere near the pier
No love this year
Marian called Robin Hood
To save her from the sea
But words are cheap
Stories had been spun
A sea of metaphors were done
And Lilja heard but wonder's thunder
All the books she read
Kept her in bed and hurt her head
Her tragic flaw was not a blunder
Percival got drunk
And tossed his cup into the snow
Where'd the grail go?
Catherine found her Heathcliff
But the Brontes died alone
Air gets so cold
Wind revives the balladeers
Sentenced to their words
Fog means return
For them bards and troubadours
Sentences are worlds
We long but don't learn
Stories had been spun
A sea of metaphors were done
And Lilja heard but wonder's thunder
All the books she read
Kept her in bed and hurt her head
Her tragic flaw was not a blunder
Teeter totter by the harbor
Lilja looked up, saw a starfish
Holding her hand was Ophelia
Smith, Elliot, Plath, Sylvia
Stories had been spun
A sea of metaphors were done
But Lilja lived her blunder thunder
All the books she read
Put her to rest on a seabed
Her tragic flaw still makes me wonder
Stories had been spun
A sea of metaphors were done
But Lilja lived her blunder thunder
All the books she read
Put her to rest on a seabed
Her tragic flaw still makes me wonder