The Belle of St. Mark

The Belle of St. Mark was a frail but passionate creatures Ebony hair and eyes of deep blue-green The Belle of St. Mark wore clothes that belonged to his father Even though he was only a mere seventeen I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark It tears me apart whenever I hear him cry I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark And if he doesn't love me, I think I'll probably die You can tell from expressions that he makes public That he suffers from a badly broken heart He smiles as he feeds the afternoon pigeons But he cries as he walks the night streets of St. Mark I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark It tears me apart whenever I hear him cry I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark And if he doesn't love me, I think I'll probably die The Belle of St. Mark, he don't talk to strangers He's so mysterious His erotic persuasion provokes me like no other man The fire I have for him is undoubtedly serious I need to make him see that he needs love to forget And if anyone can help him, I can I can help, I can help him His Paris hair, it blows in the warm Parisian air That blows whenever his Paris hair is there The woman that hurt him surely must have trouble sleeping 'Cause the Belle of St. Mark is a beauty extraordinaire Oh, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark It tears me apart whenever I hear him cry I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark And if he doesn't love me, I think I'll probably die Ooh, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark It tears me apart whenever I hear him cry Ooh, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love With the Belle of St. Mark And if he doesn't love me, I think I'll probably die And if he doesn't love me, I think I'll probably die And if he does, I'll die