Mrs. Macabrette - A Toys Orchestra

She's Mrs Macabrette

She paints the lamps with black

She spreads crysanthenums on her steps

Three black plumes on her hat

Glass buttons on her breast

The cypress bows down on her step

She's Mrs Macabrette

She makes love with the cats

And talks only with herself

Dead leaves patch up her dress

The ivy climbs up her legs

Even the birdsong looks so sad

She burns the photographs

Of

Her marriage

To light another sigarette

Where her tears fell one day

Now grows the weeping willows

Now cuts her lips instead

So nobody will be able to

Able to

Snatch a smile from

Her

Where her tears fell one day

Now grows the weeping willows

Now cuts her lips instead

So nobody will be able to

Able to snatch a smile from

Her