Strolling under harbour lights, Lilja reads a line 'Poor Tatiana' In another library, Rochester arrives Oh lord, he's half-blind Lancelot and Guinevere came nowhere near the pier No love this year Marian called Robin Hood to save her from the sea But words are cheap

Stories had been spun, a sea of metaphors were done And Lilja heard but wonder's thunder All the books she read kept her in bed and hurt her head Her tragic flaw was not a blunder

Percival got drunk and tossed his cup into the snow Where'd the grail go? Catherine found her Heathcliff but the Brontes died alone Air gets so cold Wind revives the balladeers sentenced to their words Fog means return For the bards and troubadours, sentences are worlds We long but don't learn

Stories had been spun, a sea of metaphors were done And Lilja heard but wonder's thunder All the books she read kept her in bed and hurt her head Her tragic flaw was not a blunder

Teeter totter by the harbour, Lilja looked up saw a starfish Holding her hand was Ophelia, Smith, Elliot; Plath, Sylvia

Stories had been spun, a sea of metaphors were done But Lilja lived her blunder thunder All the books she read put her to rest on a seabed Her tragic flaw still makes me wonder