Sola

Your tune resonates, still hangs in blue trees, a web across my face, was it out side Marseilles, where you sang so clean, the year Lady passed away, couldn't get past your gaze, was shrunk on my heels, still hear that voice raise, you didn't hesitate, down fallen streets, you kept us dancing angel, your ma all broken rage, in that post war scene, before your fame, but what you created, before your disease, still leaves me prostrate, at your feet.