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It calls the Victorian lady back from the deadShe rises from the cold ground and enters through the dooras a draught to you and IIf you and I could ever, ever go backWe'd see her on the other side of a dusty frame,Running through the field, pale of salt water in handShe races through closed and open shuttersIn search of lovely little ones,the ones your heart's with, the ones you loveThey asked for her to comeThey asked the man in the bright red suit and wrote it on their list, tooBut never would he hear them through all the snowAnd despite being hung on the walls of all the ocean linersThe Queen herself could not get the water to put the fire outAnd when I call you won't come runningNow a dark spectre to meNo returning in white chariotHot frozen teardrops fall and melt into the inkOh, the dust is falling heavy out on the hillsMy portrait is my window sillWe'd kiss but we are made of clayYou loved me most when love was youngLetras de cancionesNow even the setting sun we dance beneath is made of clayThe dust falls heavy out on the hillsMy portrait is my window sillAnd out come the little ones with burning, flailing armsTake up your drumsticks and batter my heartLike an antique tomI won't call, you won't come runningNow a dark spectre to meNo returning in white chariotHot frozen teardrops fall and melt into the ink From Letras Mania