I will sit in My Castle
and play on my flute.
Writing a tune,
that I'll play for you soon,
if you should decide to come up here.

I will sit by the fire
in my blue velvet gown
awaiting your call
if, after all
you should finally consent to come up here.

Candlelight , gleaming
upon mirrored walls,
echo's my worry
that you're in no hurry,
and it looks like you' re not coming up here.

Clocks are now chiming
upon a late hour.
So I'll let down my hair
and fall into Despair,
for it looks like you'll NEVER come up here !
 
 

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