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Bewitched

In your eyes, you are my homeland.
 
Bewitched.
 
You are the place, you are the age.
 
Bewitched.
 
Where I feel in peace.
 
Peace.
 
Where are you, my love, long ago?
 
Play atone, and I will be your exciting symphony.
 
I will be your exciting symphony.
 
Call me, and on your path, I will be walked.
 
I will be walked.
 
Bewitched.
 
I’m bewitched...
 

Imagine

Imagine if your eye is not returned
Grief grows upon her, and I am like a return
The pain was still in my eyes
Tired me once joyfully with the blind eye
The thirst of my tears, the length of the light
Do not make your voice or your place
O sweetest days of old, the most precious word in the chest
I saw your eyes, but my hand is my hand
No, my father, my age, passes without your voice
I saw your eyes, but my hand is my hand
 
O Lord, how is your voice on my door?
You are the heavens and your religion is greater than my iniquities
Imagine if I was out of your sight
Grief grows on her, and I am in your exile like the return
Do not make your voice or your place
O sweetest days of old, the most precious word in the chest
I saw your eyes, but my hand is my hand
No, my father, my age, passes without your voice
I saw your eyes, but my hand is my hand
 
Oh, how are you?
All people ask me about my tears in my eyes
Imagine if you were the only one of your eyes and I saw you
Grief grows on her, and I am in your exile like the return
Do not make your voice or your place
O sweetest days of old, the most precious word in the chest
I saw your eyes, but my hand is my hand
No, my father, my age, passes without your voice