Esmeralda
Burn The Ballroom
3:11Where are we, Melody? Well you're singing to your mother, On a Sunday late in Spring. She's quiet and she's broken, But she will not say a thing. But, Where are we, Melody? Well it hurts with no remorse, And you'll never see his eyes. But at least you stood right by him, When he said his last goodbyes. So, Where are we, Melody? Where are we, Melody?