Carla Bruni Ballade At Thirty-five Lyrics

Ballade At Thirty-five Lyrics

This, no song of ingenue

This, no ballad of innocence

This, the rhyme of a lady who

Followed ever her natural bents



This, a solo of sapience

This, a chantey of sophistry

This, the sum of experiments

I loved them 'til they loved me



I loved them 'til they loved me

I loved them 'til they loved me



Decked in garments of sable hue

Daubed with ashes of myriad Lents

Wearing shower bouquets of rue

Walk I ever in penitence



Oft I roam, as my heart repents

Through God's acres of memory

Marking stones in my reverence

I loved them 'til they loved me



I loved them 'til they loved me

I loved them 'til they loved me



Pictures pass me in long review

Marching columns of dead events

I was tender and often true

Ever a prey to coincidence



Always knew I the consequence

Always saw what the end would be

We're as nature has made us hence

I loved them 'til they loved me



I loved them 'til they loved me

I loved them 'til they loved me



Princes, never I'd give offense

Won't you think of me tenderly?

You're my strength and my weakness, gents



This, no song of ingenue

This, no ballad of innocence

This, the rhyme of a lady who