Queens Of Charades
Mike Connell, George Huntley
I remember who Venus held in her arms
I can call up some things she would say
But all I envision are the saddest things
Tearfilled eyelashes
Fanning flames to ashes
In a game of charades
She′s bigger than virtue
Sadder than hope
You could set sail on the things she would say
But all I remember is like a tapestry
Miles of inventions way before engines
In a game of charades
And do you rеfuse to play
I think you nearly got the bеtter of me
Do you refuse to play
I think you nearly lost one dearly
The queen of charades
Saturday's venus
Held on the lawn
Eyeshadows, sinews and veins
It′s all so familiar in this bag of things
With mixed up intentions
Deep dark indentions
And the queen of charades