A mystical moment is at hand, night sprinkled with the astral dust of the moon and stars. The veil of October behind us, the crisp chill of November tearing the leaves and the last of the summer from the air – there is no pretending that any vestiges of summer might linger.
You can ride high atop your ponyI know you won’t fall‘Cause the whole thing’s phoney.You can fly swinging from your trapezeScaring all the peopleBut you’ll never scare me
Bella Donna, my soul
No speed limit this is the fast laneIt’s just the way that it is hereAnd you say I never thought it could… Come in out of the darkness
Bella Donna my soul
You are in love withAnd I’m ready to sailIt’s just a feeling
And we fight for the northern star
Bella Donna my soul
The moon seems to play hide and seek with a nearby star, ducking behind a cloud, peeking around a tree, though it’s only our fanciful imprint of imagination. The moon and the stars take no real notice of our clouds and trees, nor are they bound behind or before them – it’s all our perspective. We want so badly to have such power, to name and decipher the motives and motions of the moon, to harness its power and energy and magic. In the end, all we can do is watch and hope and dream.
And the lady’s feelingLike the moon that she lovedDon’t you know that the stars areA part of us
And we fight for the Northern star
Bella Donna, Bella Donna, my soul
