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Sheila E. – The Belle Of St. Mark lyrics
The belle of St. Mark was a fair but a passionate creature
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
Chorus
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
Chorus
Bridge
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 undoubtably serious
I must make him see that he needs love to forget
And if anyone can help him, I can
I can help.
I can help you.
His Paris hair blows in the warm Parisian air
It blows whenever his Paris hair is there
The woman who hurt him surely must have trouble sleeping
Cause the belle of St. Mark is a beauty extraordinaire
Chorus
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
Chorus
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
Chorus
Bridge
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 undoubtably serious
I must make him see that he needs love to forget
And if anyone can help him, I can
I can help.
I can help you.
His Paris hair blows in the warm Parisian air
It blows whenever his Paris hair is there
The woman who hurt him surely must have trouble sleeping
Cause the belle of St. Mark is a beauty extraordinaire
Chorus
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/s/sheila_e/the_belle_of_st_mark.html
