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Instrument Credits
Michael Thomas - Violin
Ian Belton - Violin
Paul Cassidy - Viola
Jacqueline Thomas - Violoncello
Elvis Costello - Voice
So There was this professor in Verona who answered letters addressed to Juliet....
Well, if that sounds like the start of a tall story I suppose it is. My wife, Cait, pointed out the tiny newspaper item about a Veronese academic who had taken on the task of replying to letters addressed to "Juliet Capulet." This apparently continued for a number of years, until some gentlemen of the press exposed this secret correspondence. Quite how he came by these letters in the first place remains unclear. We can only make a guess as to their content. After all, these people were writing to an imaginary woman, and a dead imaginary woman at that. Perhaps they were simply scholarly enquiries, or letters of sympathy from others disappointed in love, or even a plea from somebody forced into an unhappy arranged marriage. Whatever was contained in those letters and their replies, the idea of this correspondence provided our initial inspiration.
I first saw the Brodsky Quartet play at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, London, in 1989. They were giving a series of concerts in which they wereto perform all of the string quartets composed by Dimitri Shostakovich. Having arrived in town in time to attend the concert in which they played Quartets Nos. 7, 8, and 9, we returned on two subsequent evenings to hear them complete the cycle. I recall running out of a B.B.C. television studio where I had anxiously completed a programme presenting the album Spike in order to get to the last concert on time. Such was the impact of these performances. Not only did I come away with a clearer impression of the music, but also a straong sense of the love and dedication with which the Quartet played it. Over the next two years we went to see the Brodskys play some wonderful music: Haydn, Schubert, Beethoven and Bartok. Little did I suspect, but members of the Quartet had been to my London concerts during the same period. Somehow the connection was made, we exchanged letters and recordings, and finally arranged to meet after their next London appearance. It was after that lunchtime concert in November 1991 that we began our collaboration.
At first we just talked and talked and ... talked. This led to several informal musical sessions. We looked at the characteristics of the music that we loved and admired. The Quartet played pieces, I played songs, sometimes we listened to records. Naturally, some of the music introduced was unfamiliar, but this only added to the number of possibilities. Soon our own ideas began to emerge.
We wanted to explore the under-used combination of voice and string quartet, but were anxious to avoid that junkyard named "Cross-over." This is no more my stab at "classical music" than it is the Brodsky Quartet's first rock and roll album. It does, however, employ the music which we believe touches whatever part of the being that you care to mention. It also conforms to, and occasionally upsets, the structures found in our respective disciplines and indiscipline!
With The Juliet Letters as our title, we thought of the many types of character that the letter form would allow us. Somewhere there is a list of the letters we which we considered. Love letter, begging letter, chain letter, suicide note, etc. In order to make the work more personal we decided that each of us would contribute to the text, not forgetting the words written by Michael Thomas's wife, Marina. As the lyricist in the house, I could also act as a kind of editor. From these early drafts came a curious advantage. Of course, each of us had different approaches to the common subject, and through some unconscious poetry, and in the absense of much of the crafty language of the songwriter, we were able to assemble strong and varied texts. It seems that only poets an politicians write letters with a view to them being printed in collected form. In my experience the language of most letters swings wildly from the lyrical to the banal and from the courteous to the confessional, sometimes inside the same paragraph. I hope we've caught something of this in the words of The Juliet Letters
The process of composition and arrangement was varied and is mysterious to contemplate. Some pieces arrived with both words and music complete. Bridges were then built between smaller related items, while at least one song and a crucial passage of the music was effectively composed "spontaneously." While the job of compiling and creating the "draft arrangements" was shared among the members of the quartet, the process of arranging was often one of trial and error involving all five of us. This has continued throught the rehearsals, the first two performances and even during this recording. Having previously been unable to read or write down music, my own recent studies have allowed me to progress, since January 1992, from picking out my ideas at the piano (using what is known as "the crab method"), through piano scores to full proposed four-part arrangements. I have to give credit to the Quartet for their perserverance in deciphering some of my early intentions from the most wayward of playing. As I have found with other collaborations, the music that you most confidently attribute to one party invariably turns out to be the work of the person you least suspect.
The Juliet Letters begins with a short composition entitled "Deliver Us." It simply serves to open the story, for although the following letters are not intended to create a dialogue, you may choose to draw your own conclusions from some of the resulting juxtapositions.
One of the conventions which we have taken from classical song, or for that matter folk-song, is the acceptance of a man singing a woman's story. In "For Other Eyes" a woman confesses her jealous suspicions and fears.
The "letter" in "Swine" takes a more unusal form, being a piece of deranged, political graffiti carved on a wooden door.
For the next song, "Expert Rites," I have taken the liberty of imagininga reply made by a character similar to the Veronese professor who unwittingly provided our title. If he should ever hear this piece I hope he will not be offended by our presumption -- in this version of the mystery the author of the letter is a compassionate and romantic soul. "Expert Rites" leads without pause into Paul Cassidy's "Dead Letter," which darkens the already melancholy mood into one of sadness and loss.
After a short introduction of my invention comes Michael Thomas's first song, "I Almost Had A Weakness," to which I added the tango passages. It is an eccentric aunt's curt reply to a begging letter.
The text of "Why?" was derived from Ian Belton's version of a child's note. I added the final repeated lines and the music.
Without dragging the listener through the mechanics of our working method, it should be stated that in naming the "main composer" we hope to indicate who was responsible for the initial music and defining structure of the collaborative pieces. Even if others have amended the melodic line or added further musical content, when such a credit is stated it is because we still regard it as "their" song. In the case of "Who Do You Think You Are?" this credit very much belongs to Michael Thomas. The song begins with a young man sitting down in a seaside cafe to write a postcard in which he details all his estranged lover's faults. The truth of the situation is gradually revealed.
In performance, "Taking My Life In Your Hands" concludes the first half of the sequence. The music was developed from a piece first outlined by Jacqeline Thomas. The letter portrays an obsessive and deluded person, writing letters never sent, expecting impossible replies.
The second part of The Juliet Letters opens with a rather extreme form of junk mail: "This Offer Is Unrepeatable."
The text of "Dear Sweet Filthy World" is a suicide note that turns from blase and bored with life to desperate, and is finally lost in a dream.
"The Letter Home" employs contrasting musical sections, predominantly from Ian Belton (I contributed the music for only the "Why must I apologise" section), as the story dissolves from the formal courtesies, through nostalgia, and into bitterness.
"Jacksons, Monk and Rowe" is the name of a firm of solicitors which reoccurs as a motif among images of both childhood and adult disillusionment. The authorship of the two verses is divided between brother and sister, Michael and Jacqueline, while the music is Michael's.
The music of "This Sad Burlesque" is mostly the work of Paul Cassidy, although between us Michael and I proposed the related material in the bridge section. The events described in the letter should be familiar to those who lived in England in the spring of 1992.
The next letter is spelt out by a moving glass. "Romeo's Seance" tells of a strange young man's struggle to contact his ghostly lover. He even claims that she composed this song. In fact, the music is by Michael Thomas, although I think I should admit responsibility for the rather daft tune which Jacky plays during the central "flying furniture" section. In concert performance, Michael, Ian and Paul all play standing up, with Jacqueline seated on a small platform. This not only allows us to maintain eye contact, but also to change the grouping of the Quartet in order to heighten the focus on certain unconventional instrument balances. Without the visual aspect we decided to minimise these changes of configuration in the studio. However, as Michael and Jacky creat most of the rhythmic and percussive interest in "Romeo's Seance," Michael took up his "Concert Position" between the voice and cello. Do not, as they say, adjust your set.
In "I Thought I'd Write To Juliet" a cynical writer quotes the contents of a letter that he has recieved. This "soldier's letter" is closely related to one sent to me during the build-up to the Gulf War tragedy. I would not like to comment further, except to say that it is not included as a simplistic political gesture, either "for" or "against" anything, but rather to illustrate the predicament of the two characters in being forced to reconsider their assumed positions. From the concluding mayhem a single note emerges leading into Michael Thomas's "Last Post." Despite it's title this piece does not have any military significance. It seems to me to have a clear sense of peace, though not without strong feeling. It also serves as a preface to the trio of songs at the conclusion of the sequence as it runs without a break into"The First To Leave." In this song, a man who believes in the afterlife leaves a letter for his atheist lover, which, we must assume, she is reading after his demise. "Damnation's Cellar" gives a glimpse of a fantastic kind of immorality. The final letter is also delivered from a place beyond death, although the intention is not at all morbid. So it is a song of condolence and renewal, "The Birds Will Be Singing," which brings The Juliet Letters to, what I believe is, a hopeful conclusion.
The Juliet Letters was performed for the first time in public at The Amadeus Centre, London, on 1st, July 1992, and again at The Great Hall, Dartington, on 13th, August 1992. This recording was made and balanced at Church Studios, Crouch Hill, North London, between 14th, September and 1st, October 1992. It was recorded, as we say in the popular music parlance, "live in the studio".
Here follows a brief technical note. Our "Tonmeister" Kevin Killen, who engineered and balanced the disc, assures us that there was no equalisation of the signal coming from the studio. There are no overdubbed or additional parts. In orderto preserve the clarity of the Quartet's tone the vocals were recorded simultaneously, but behind isolation screens. Therefor, the only artificial reverberation that you hear is that added to the voice in order to match the natural reverberation of Studio B. Although this was a multi-track recording, employing a combination of close, distant and wide microphone positions, the very minimum of adjustments were made to the internal balance of the Quartet in order to preserve the integrity of the performances. The decision to made an analog recording was an aesthetic one, founded on my firm conviction that for everything that digital recording gains in noise reduction and supposed clarity, there are unacceptable losses of warmth and depth. For the same reasons, the record was mixed to half-inch analog tape. All other applicable methods of noise reduction were employed. We trust that the results justify these decisions.
--Elvis Costello
October 21, 1992
"Elvis Costello" is the stage name of self-taught songwriter and singe Declan MacManus. He first performed in public in 1969, and began his recording career in 1976 with the making of the album My Aim Is True. Since then, he has made more than a dozen albums, mostly comprised of original compositions. These include This Year's Model, Armed Forces, Get Happy, Imperial Bedroom, King of America, Blood and Chocolate, Spike, and Mighty Like A Rose.
Between 1977 and 1985, Costello recorded and toured almost exclusivly with his band "The Attractions." Since then, he has performed as a solo artist and has led several touring ensembles, most recently "The Conquered Dogs."
Many of Costello's 250 or so songs have been recorded by other artists, including several compositions which were written in reply to specific requests. The list of performers reflects his interest in a wide range of musical styles: Chet Baker, Johnny Cash, June Tabor, Roy Orbison, Roger McGuinn, Charles Brown, George Jones and The Contemporary Composer's Ensemble among them. In addition, Costello has written with his wife, Cait O'Riordan, Paul McCartney and Richard Harvey, with whom he collaborated on the BAFTA award-winning score for Alan Bleasdale's television series "G.B.H."
As a record producer, Costello has worked with The Specials, Squeeze and The Pogues; as a guest vocalist, he contributed to Hall Wilner's Weird Nightmares (a Charles Mingus tribute) and has recorded and performed with, among others, The Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Madness, 'Til Tuesday and The Count Basie Orchestra.
Futre Plans include recording the album Idiophone, the subsequent release of Kojak Variety, an already recorded collection of "favourite songs," and the completeion and scoring of a musical drama for projected production in Autumn 1993.
The Brodsky Quartet boasts a unique combination of youth and experience: all still in their early 30's, the group have been playing together for over 20 years giving concerts and making radio and TV appearances in more than 30 countries. In 1985 the Brodskys became the first-ever quartet in residence at Cambridge University where they taught for four years whilst continuing their international travels. Now based in London, they host their own series of concerts raising money for children's charities - a project close to all their hearts.
The Brodsky Quartet have had a long association with the fashion legent Issey Miyake: Together they have embarked on many interesting projects - including providing live music for the Paris fashion show - extending the horizons of the string quartet into another world of art. They are also involved in projects linking concerts with visual arts exhibitions, theatre with music, as well as starring in a TV commercial. They have been featured in several tv shows, including the Evelyn Glennie Show and James Galway invites, and their Schoenberg Video with Swiss TV's Addy Morthaller won second prize at the New York video awards.
The quartet's repertoire is wide ranging: from the early quartets of Haydn and Mozart through to the present day and ongoing commissions from Birtwhistle, Eben, Szymanski and Firsova. Their many recordings have met with enthusiastic critical acclaim: quartets by Beethoven, Schubert, Tchaikovsky, Borodin, Elgar and Delius , and their celebrated Shostakovitch cycle variously earned them Review Magazine's "Record Of The Year" in England, Holland, Switzerland, France, Spain and the U.S.A, and the Shallplaten prize in Germany. Their latest album, Brodsky unlimited, is a compilation of 20 encore pieces which are their own arrangements of well-known orchestral and piano music by Gershwin, Prokofiev, De Falla, Debussy, Brubeck and many others. Future releases include Schubert / Death And The Maiden, Crumb / Black Angels and Dvorak American Quartet.
-October 1992
Deliver Us (Instrumental)
For Other Eyes I don't know what I would do If this letter should fall into Other hands than it should pass through For other eyes He said, "It was nothing...it's over and done" But the rotten worm was burrowing still Its spirit invades me bleeding me white For other replies I searched his pockets I searched his eyes I searched his wallet for clues and lies And I found a number that I somehow dialed A woman answered, a woman smiled Then she hung up on the silence unperplexed Innocently spun her rolodex I dialed again I could not resist Revealing just the dentist receptionist One day we'll laugh about it or maybe we'll curse But there is one thing that is making it worse And it's the lack of forgiveness that I can't disguise No matter how well he lies Now we don't know each other anymore And when we touch our lips feel sore I question the longing left in his sighs For other eyes
Swine You're a swine and I'm saying that's an insult to the pig In the foul furrow that you dig Why don't you lay your head down In that unconsecrated ground WAS she your MOTHER? Or WAS she your bride To defile and to blister To gnaw at her side Is this the end of the world? Now that you've finished your life This RIDDLE is the work of my little pen-knife
Expert Rites I marvel at the wonder of it in our souless age Fast flow the tears upon the page Don't be alarmed I am her friend Will I be excused if I presume It's more than disappointment that we share You share the same sorry life, the families fight, that unhappy blade you both invite This romantic ideal has a lonely appeal I once loved someone the way that you do But I had to let her go I live with my regret Don't despair my would-be Juliet
Dead Letter (Instrumental)
I Almost Had A Weakness Thank you for the flowers I threw them on the fire And I burned the photographs that you had enclosed GOD they were ugly children So you're the little bastard of that brother of mine Trying to trick a poor old woman 'Til I almost had a weakness Last week Cousin Florence Bit your Uncle Joe Hit him on the forehead with a knife and a fork (She) said that he looked like the devil Then she said... "pass the vinegar," I'm beginning to think (That) I'm the only one who hasn't taken to the drinking of it Though I almost had a weakness It pains me to mention These delicate concerns While I have to tolerate you family jewels I really mustn't grumble ('Cause) when I die the cats and dogs will jump up and down And you little swines will get nothing Though I almost had a weakness
Why? Why is Daddy not here? Are you crying? Why? Does he still love me? Will you take care of me? If you both love me so Why don't you love each other Mummy's gone missing Daddy's on fire Daddy's on fire Daddy's on fire
Who Do You Think You Are? The hunted look, the haunted grace The empty laugh that you cultivate You fall into that false embrace And kiss the air about her face Who do you think you are? The tres bon mots you almost quote from your QUIVER of literary darts A thousand or so tuneless violins thrilling your cheap little heart Who do you think you are? My cigarette burns right down to the ash, my coffee cup is unstained The waiter hovers close at hand His courtesy strained Who do you think you are? I close with my regards Well I'm the red-face gentleman Caught in this picture postcard Who do you think you are? Trying my best to make the best of your absence Though the joke gets tired and sordid Sea-shell hearts get trampled under foot Punchlines unrewarded But even at this distance it's not easy to accept The vision that I chase returns when I least expect it I've fallen from your tired embrace I kiss the air around the place that should be your face.
Taking My Life In Your Hands My dear impulsive darling I suspect my letter got to you too late And it's really just a silly fragment of paper But it means so much to those who wait All the suffering days and nights 'til I dare dream again There you suddenly stand and I'll be damned if you didn't disappear with the dawn Chorus: Hours pass and darkness comes Soon I will close my eyes Will you return if you don't reply You'll be taking my life in your hands You'll be taking my life in your hands Taking my life in your hands I don't know why my dearest darling I can't tell you how I feel when you are near When I see you have returned my letters unopened I will tear them up, your voice ringing in my ears But you're kidding yourself if you think this correspondence will end I can always pretend words I don't have the courage to send Reach you Repeat chorus
This Offer Is Unrepeatable DON'T SEND ANY MONEY! Fate has no price Ignore at your peril this splendid advice An invaluable link in an infinite chain An offer like this will just not come again You wish you had women to charm and bewitch Power of life and death over the rich young girls will be swooning Because you're exciting them And not only fall at your feet but be biting them Guaranteed, guaranteed to capture your breath Or just possibly scare you to death Sign it and seal it and send it to friends But don't mention my name Don't make any long term plans In thirty-six hours your fortunes will change Your best friends won't know you And neither will strangers Do not keep this letter It must leave your hand You have been selected from over five thousand A twister or dupe will bamboozle or hoodwink you I can't say more it would only confuse you The wine that they offer will go to your head And you'll start to see double in fishes and bread Guaranteed, guaranteed for a lifetime or more Guaranteed, for this world and the next Guaranteed, guaranteed for the world and its mother Cherish this life as you don't get another one UNLESS you should take up this fabulous offer Don't leave it too late or you'll be bound to suffer And woebetide anyone so woebegone You won't know you're born or about to pass on You'll never get tired You'll never get bored By the way I just hope you're insured And if you're not satisfied If you want more We can always provide an improved overture Guaranteed at a price that is almost unbeatable This offer is unrepeatable Your trouble will vanish Your tears will dry Your blessing will just multiply Guaranteed at a price that is almost unbeatable This offer is unrepeatable Guaranteed, guaranteed to bring fortune and favor In a riot of colours, (a variety of) and flavours Guaranteed at a price that is almost unbeatable This offer is unrepeatable Would I lie to you? Would I sell you a dud? Just sign on the line. Could you possibly write it in blood?
Dear Sweet Filthy World Dear sweet filthy world, my wife or whoever reads this I think that I've lived too long With all of my promise unfulfilled But there is a veil drawn over all of that I know you'll probably say, "Spare us the melodrama" "I don't know how he chose the pills or the stupid revolver" I'm out of luck I'm not that strong My hands, your neck I might have wrung Don't try to find me I'm not worth anything anymore I am not leaving you with all of your problems The biggest one is me Life is dark Cold as the sea Embrace me in my anguish Put seaweed in my hair and vow that you won't cry because I've gone I can't go on, I can't go on, I can't go on I must close now
The Letter Home c/0 St. Ignatus House, Willoughby Drive, Parrametta, New South Wales This fifth day of July, in the year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty five Why must I apologize every time that I sit down to write Through my own fault I may find You're no longer living at this address Please excuse the lack of news The feeling of strange privilege for the hour of trial, in these times of distress Mean more than years imprisoned by etiquette. I can remember when we were children Though I could never imagine this day Your brother told me we'd live forever "I'll go one better," I heard myself say And it seems so strange, now that he's gone to recall all these games While the years have divided us Friendships have strained and broken Oh, by the way, how's that girl that you wed I hated you then, but I'm over the worst of it I can't come home, I might as well say, life is short I shall not write again
Jacksons, Monk and Rowe Sister 4 and Brothers 3 Hanging off the family tree Practising for getting old Do you want your fortune told They're looking for you high and low Now there's nowhere for you to go So you'll just have to come out and face the music Jacksons, Monk and Rowe Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits As we carried off like spoils the heads we'd smash right off your dolls But the wind is changing you know Are you sure of your friends and your foe Have you got what it takes to carry it off Jacksons, Monk and Rowe As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate Will we both incinerate If we touch that brass name-plate Messrs. All, noble Sirs Highly paid solicitors Find enclosed my signed divorce Sad proceedings you endorse The burden of pity will show In the people we used to know Have you got enough strength to carry it off Jacksons, Monk and Rowe
This Sad Burlesque I write in hopes that by the time you get this letter We may live to see a change for the better Or are we so devoted to these wretched selfish motives When the cold facts and figures all add up They cannot contradict this sad burlesque This sad burlesque With miserable failures making entertainment of our fate Laughter cannot dignify of elevate This sad burlesque Now can they recall being young and idealistic Before wading knee-deep in hogwash and arithmetic The pitying smirk The argument runs like clockwork Will run down eventually and splutter to a stop P.S. Well by now you know the worst of it And we've heard all the alibis that they've rehearsed The smug predictions If it's not a contradiction Keep faith in human nature And have mercy on the creatures in this sad burlesque
Romeo's Seance Is anyone there I can talk to? Give us a sign if you're with me CAN'T you see that I'm dying to hear you EVERYONE ELSE HAS LOST INTEREST AND I'M ALL ALONE IN THIS DREAM HOUSE Though you're gone I don't feel like crying Romeo is calling you Knock once or twice if you're out there Send me a message my sweetheart When I'm out and about I'll be coming to see you IT ISN'T EASY TO LIVE WITH THIS MATRONLY FACE AT THE WINDOW Try to contact me, if you can see how I'm suffering Romeo is calling you Scatter the paper and thimbles You can take care of the candles An unplugged radio plays. She is close NOW Me and my hand-holding baby walking the floor and the ceiling THIS IS the song SHE dictated this evening. Romeo is calling you ROMEO IS CALLING YOU
I Thought I'd Write to Juliet I thought I'd write to Juliet, for she would understand And when someone is already dead they can no longer let you down Instead I find myself talking to you, as my oldest friend Tell me how I can advise someone, that I don't even know, To welcome death For I received a letter that is worth reporting And though it may raise a cynical smile It leaves a sinking feeling Like when a soldier in a story says to the sergeant... "Have you seen my pride and joy?..." You know the rest...and it's no joke...Forgive me please as I quote... "This is a letter of thanks, as I'm so bored here in I can't say where. So I'm writing to people that I may never meet And I was thinking if something you said..." "I'm a female soldier, my name is Constance. I enlisted in the military needing funds for college I'm twenty-three years old and if I do get home alive I imagine I may think again..." "I'm sleeping with my eyes open for fear of attack Your words are a comfort, they're the best thing that I have Apart from family pictures and, of course, my gas mask I don't know why I am writing to you"
Last Post (Instrumental)
The First to Leave I should open with a kiss For if you're reading this You must have opened up your case And found this letter where I placed it In between the silk and lace There were other clues, like your walking shoes But I still refused to believe That you were meant to be the first to leave Everybody here sends you their love How can I forget you still walk above Or below Perhaps you'll never know this purgatory We never could agree There's a thought, there's a pause No time to repent Eternally yours In a permanent lent But if I should give you up If you're right and life just stops And I never see your face again Then from unearthly pleasures, proud and plain I shall abstain Until you realise, my loss is your surprise Unless you know otherwise Then don't grieve You see I had to be the first to leave
Damnation's Cellar Did anybody notice, over marmalade and eggs In between the Princess' legs What with wars and floods and beggars Not to mention stocks and shares If you have a moment to spare Can you write and reassure me that I have seen They're constructing a time machine There will be no need for the obituary pages We can have any hero from the bygone ages 'Til the truth emerges, the argument rages Chorus: The major and the minor Turn from tallow into tar Should we leave them in their place? Down in damnation's cellar When any form of deity that you might enjoy Can be conjured with a test-tube and a flame If it's out there then science can explain it Or at least remove the blame And if theres is anyone you'd like to see again The speak up quickly Send us back Da Vinci then we don't have to ponder The maddening smile of "La Giaconda" The critics say Nijinsky, the dancer, of course While the punters would probably prefer the horse You'll find it's quicker than history, cheaper than divorce Chorus Bring back Liberace or Ollie and Stan Shakespeare will have to wait his turn Elvis Presley and Puccini shall return I suppose we live and learn, though it's hard to believe as we cheerfully burn It's curious Some will call for justice. There are murders to solve What about Hitler? Or at least Lee Harvey Oswald Give us this day and everything we squander Anyone beautiful Somebody blonder They'll never please mankind, so lie back and enjoy it Stop press: They've just decided to destroy it Chorus
The Birds Will Still Be Singing Summertime withers as the sun descends He wants to kiss you. Will you condescend? Before you wake and find a chill within your bones Under a fine canopy of lover's dust and humourous bones Banish all dismay Extinguish every sorrow Eternity stinks, my darling. That's no joke Don't waste your precious time pretending you're heartbroken There will be tears and candles Pretty words to say Spare me lily-white lillies With the awful perfume of decay Banish all dismay Extinguish every sorrow If I'm lost or I'm forgiven The birds will still be singing It's so hard to tear myself away Even when you know it's over It's too much to say. Banish all dismay Extinguish every sorrow If I'm lost or I'm forgiven The birds will still be singing
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