La monture
Notre Dame De Paris
The Mount
Fleur-de-Lys (from afar, to Phoebus):
When we see you on your mount
What a look and what a stature
A true model of uprightness
A force of nature
Or are you just scum
An animal of lust
Who runs into adventure?
Is there a heart under your armor?
Mine is pure as the azure
Let me dress your wounds
Let's forget this misadventure
I will love you if you swear to me
I will love you if you swear to me
That we will hang
The Gypsy
My dreams as a little girl
Stitched from thread to needle
I threw them to the wolves
Don't be mistaken because I am
As white as a lamb
Rolling in the mud
Your words of love are insults
Your oaths are perjuries
My heart is already hardening
I put you against the wall
Free me from my belt
Come into me, you little scum
Teach me the art of lust
I will love you if you swear to me
I will love you if you swear to me
That we will hang The Gypsy!
I will love you if you swear to me
I will love you if you swear to me
That we will hang The Esmeralda!
That we will hang The Gypsy
