Singing at a cello
She stud silent in the attic
Never looking through the window
Always singing more dramatic.

And there besides her lonely soul
The cello's sound was ever cold
Could brake your heart and than amaze
With the sad story that it sais.

With tears of butter she sings on
Until her soul is out and gone
And all that's left
Is just the bitter.

She fals aslep with shivring tunes
And dreams a dream that is long gone
Only to wake her tired bones
To play the cello...forever more.