I’m half sick of shadows

And it’s raining
And the stars are falling from the sky
And the wind
And the wind I know it’s cold
I’ve been waiting
For the day I will surely die
And it’s here
And it’s here for I’ve been told
That I’ll die before I’m old
And the wind I know it’s cold…”

She looks up to the mirrored glass
She sees a handsome horse and rider pass
She says, “That man’s gonna be my death
‘Cause he’s all I ever wanted in my life
And I know he doesn’t know my name
And that all the girls are all the same to him
But still I’ve got to get out of this place
‘Cause I don’t think I can face another night
Where I’m half sick of shadows
And I can’t see the sky
Everyone else can watch as the tide comes in
So why can’t I

And it’s raining
And the stars are falling from the sky
And the wind
And the wind I know it’s cold
I’ve been waiting
For the day I will surely die
And it’s here
And it’s here for I’ve been told
That I’ll die before I’m old
And the wind I know it’s cold…”

But there’s willow trees
And little breezes, waves, and walls, and flowers
And there’s moonlight every single night
As I’m locked in these towers
So I’ll meet my death
But with my last breath I’ll sing to him my love
And he’ll see my face in another place,”
And with that the glass above

Cracked into a million bits
And she cried out, “So the story fits
But then I could have guessed it all along
‘Cause now some drama queen is gonna write a song for me,”
She went down to her little boat
And she broke the chains and began to float away
And as the blood froze in her veins she said,
“Well then that explains a thing or two
‘Cause I know I’m the cursed one
I know I’m meant to die
Everyone else can watch as their dreams untie
So why can’t I

And it’s raining
And the stars are falling from the sky
And the wind
And the wind I know it’s cold
I’ve been waiting
For the day I will surely die
And it’s here
And it’s here
And it’s here..
And it’s here, it’s finally here!”

And it’s raining
And the stars are falling from the sky
And the wind
And the wind I know it’s cold
I’ve been waiting
For the day I will surely die
And it’s here
And it’s here for I’ve been told
That I’ll die before I’m old
And the wind I know it’s cold…”

Il dipinto è di Sidney Meteyard, un altro dei misteriosamente misconosciuti preraffaelliti. La dama di Shalott è stata una dei loro soggetti favoriti: famose sono le versioni di J.W. Waterhouse (sulla barca, diventato un’icona dei figli dei fiori, al telaio e nell’atto di alzarsi), W.H. Hunt (intrappolata nel suo enorme telaio) e D.G. Rossetti (). A queste mi permetto di aggiungere la versione gotica di J.A. Grimshaw, lo schizzo di Elizabeth Siddal, la sovraffollata tela di Hughes.