• As I strike my violin with my bow,
    You sing words of sorrow.
    As I pick up the pace,
    You sing tongues of old.
    Music drifts in the air,
    As the wind blows through our hair.
    I look over and see your beauty,
    And I realize that I've always cared.
    Come with me my darling,
    We can make music together always.
    As I continue to play my violin,
    I hear you stop and see you sway.