The Troubadour

Oh, she died somewhere in the 30’s in france
Then a troubadour made a song in her name
In italian, true language of love
“Sei davvero sbagliatta, signorina dolore”
And the beautiful of his words inspired every pelter
Even homeless running away from their shelters
And for the first time, a smile was a smile
Clonazepam would not be found in any aisle

Well, I can’t wait to hear from you

Oh, this troubadour composed the song
“We are two infants ready to rock
Naivety is our playground
And affection is our weak side
The truth is now so clear
You have been my heroine”