The Birds Of St. Marks

The Birds Of St.Marks -Jackson Browne （克逊·布朗）
Oh how sadly sound the songs
The queen must sing of dying
A prisoner upon her throne
Of melancholy sighing
If she could see her mirror now
She would be free of those who bow and
Scrape the ground before her feet
Silently she walks
Among her dying midnight roses
Watches as each moment
Goes that never really know us
And so it seems she doesn't care
If she has dreams of no one there
Within the shadows of her room
But all my frozen words agree
And say it's time to
Call back all the birds I sent to
Fly behind her castle walls and I'm
Weary of the nights I've seen
Inside these empty halls
Wooden lady turn and turn
Among my weary secrets
And wave within the hours past
And other empty pockets
Maybe we've found what we have lost
When we've unwound
So many crossed entangling
Misunderstandings but
All my frozen words agree
And say it's time to
Call back all the birds I sent to
Fly behind her castle walls and I'm
Weary of the nights I've seen
Inside these empty walls