Audition Song Priscilla

The letter that she wrote, the letter he wrote, the lies that they told...
With each hour it gives me a different story.
(by angels) War, despite the white flag.
Oh my dear, I fear I have become a burden.
Is it raining outside your window? Its pouring here, but the rain it never reaches the floor.
Maybe this miracle made of gold was all a trick.
Scrap the plans that we made; break the ribbon; breakdown. Leave a message for your victims, baby.