Amor (Ang.)
I still remember when Cupid
His arrows threw at me,
And every new acquaintance
To love so close would be.
Well trusting the little bowman
To yet another ball
I went, and of those bygone
I didn’t think at all.
And the years went by like thunder;
The music faded out,
Revealing very slowly
What living is about.
Now I’m forsaken by Cupid,
I rarely meet a dame;
And what once felt like passion,
Today is just a game.
I often sadly hark back to
Every acquaintance and every ball,
And tears are biggest when thinking
Of those, I didn’t think of at all.