Sinsuality
Latin Song in D Minor (Gold/Conway)
A tenor's lament to your sopranoI was bewitched by your styleThe grace in which youHeld me in raptureNow my memory Caught like a photo captureYou turned to face the mirrorAnd cast one final glanceIn a look which said to meThat you were mine'Cause you'd let me beWe talked of lands so foreignAnd about the language of lovePicture are hands togetherAnd our lips they are sealedTorn down to the seventhEighth and ninth layersOf Dante's fireCondemned for being unable to praiseTo offer a single thoughtA single phraseI held you close in my dreamsSongtexteThe kind that rage with the seaI'm overtaken to confessFor you my love, I must professWe talked of lands so foreignAnd about the language of lovePicture are hands togetherAnd our lips they are sealed
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