"Ballade at Thirty-Five" as written by and Carla Bruni....
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



Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Ballade at Thirty-Five" as written by Dorothy Parker Carla Bruni

Lyrics © DOWNTOWN MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

Ballade at Thirty-Five song meanings
Add your thoughts

No Comments

sort form View by:
  • No Comments

Add your thoughts

Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.

Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!

Back to top
explain