I'm wearing that dress, I've pulled on those gloves I put on my veil, we once were in love We once had it all the entire sky We threw it away and I wonder why
Passion's always half impossibility But lovers that we lose we never dare forget We visit them in mourning in December and in May In the graveyard of St. Mary's of Regret
The end of the street, the wrought-iron gate The cobblestone path, the names and the date The anxious hello, the everyday laugh The intimate tears, the epitaph
Passion's always half impossibility But lovers that we lose we never dare forget We visit them in mourning in December and in May In the graveyard of St. Mary's of Regret
You're married by now She's kind I suppose Does she know what she has? Does she tell you she knows?
Do you put on the suit? Do you try on the tie? Do you walk through that gate? Do you wonder why?
Passion's always half impossibility But lovers that we lose we never dare forget Maybe someday there I'll see you in December or in May In the graveyard of St. Mary's of Regret In the graveyard of St. Mary's of Regret