Cassandra Lyrics - Closure: Live - Theatre Of Tragedy

He gave to her, yet tenfold claim'd in return 

She hath no life but the one he for her wrought; 

Proffer'd to her his wauking heart, she turn'd it down, 

Riposted with a tell-tale lore of lies and scorn. 

Prophetess or fond?, 

Tho' her parle of truth: 

"I ken to-morrow, refell me if ye can!", 

Yet the kiss and breath, Apollo's bane 

Sëer of the future, not of twain, 

"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra. 

Still, is she lief and quaint in his eyne, a sight divine? 

A mistress fuell'd by his prest haughtiness 

If he did grant, wherefore then did he not foresee, 

Belike egal as it to him might be?! 

Prophetess or fond?, 

Tho' her parle of truth: 

"I ken to-morrow, refell me if ye can!", 

Yet the kiss and breath, Apollo's bane 

Sëer of the future, not of twain, 

"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.