[00:00.300]
[00:01.300]She's mrs macabrette
[00:05.300]she paints the lamps with black
[00:09.300]she spreads chrysanthenums on her steps
[00:17.300]three black plumes on her hat
[00:22.300]glass buttons on her breast
[00:27.300]the cypress bows down on her step
[00:48.300]she's mrs macabrette
[00:53.300]she makes love with the cats
[00:57.300]and talks only with herself
[01:04.299]dead leaves patch up her dress
[01:09.299]the ivy climbs up her legs
[01:14.299]...Even the birdsong looks so sad!
[01:38.300]She burns the photographs of her marriage
[01:47.300]to light another cigarette
[01:56.300]Where her tears fell one day
[02:01.299]now grows the weeping willows
[02:06.299]now cuts her lips instead
[02:57.300]Where her tears fell one day
[03:02.300]now grows the weeping willows
[03:06.300]now cuts her lips instead