la strega.

She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
Maybe my treasure or the prize I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
Maybe the chill that autumn brings
Maybe a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
She may be the beauty or the beast
Maybe the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell....

She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She maybe the love that cannot hope to last
May come to leap from shadows in the past
That I remember 'till the day I die
She maybe the reason I survive

The why and wherefore kind of life
The one I care for through the rough and ready years
Me, I'll take the laughter and your tears
And make them all my souvenirs
And when she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is
She....She Oh, she....
(Elvis Costello ''she'')