Wrought by the hands of Aphrodite
Wrought by the hands of Aphrodite this tale begun.
With sunset glaze and infinite rythem.
Had Apollo composed this melody?
For this has been my only remedy.
This longing can't be quenched now,
Not until I've found love.
So I wait here under this tree,
Waiting for someone to set my heart free.
Days and months and years have passed by,
All that's left is a desolate cry.
For this tale is at the hands of The Fates,
And they weave nothing but rebates.
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