Vagrant Melodies
Được tạo ra bởi nateryckman với Udio AI
2024-04-19
Lyrics
Some ancestor of mine was a violinist and a thief into the bargain. Does this explain my vagrant disposition and hair that smells of the wind? Dark, curly-haired, hooknosed, he is the one who steals apricots from the cart, using my hand. Yes, he is responsible for my fate. Admiring the ploughman at his labour, he used to twirl a dog rose in his lips. He was always unreliable as a friend, but a tender lover. Fond of his pipe, the moon, beads, and all the young women in the neighbourhood... I think he may have also been a coward, my yellow-eyed ancestor. His soul was sold for a farthing, so he did not walk at midnight in the cemetery. He may have worn a knife tucked in his boot. Perhaps he pounced round corners like a sinuous cat. I wonder suddenly: did he even play the violin? I know nothing mattered to him any more than last year's snow. That's what he was like, my ancestor. And that's the kind of poet I am.
