Bach - Largo - Emilie Autumn

Days of old I tell my restless mind Searching mountains Fields And meadows green What is it My heart can hope to find All that I long for I have never seen Tale

O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and here! Your true love's coming That can sing both high and low; Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journeys end

Hollow like my soul You think that you'll get by You will die You will cry When you think that you'll survive Just don't try Run and hide My eyes are hollow lik

Willow Weep for me Bow your tallest tree Down to the infamous hands Of someone no one understands I'm not unique in this It's based on none but my mistake At ni