I'm not a saint, I'm not a soldier. I'm just a picture frame that could not hold her. But don't cry for me, Argentina. I tried to make a bride out of a ballerina. And she's still... Half there and dancing, Half there and dancing, Half there and dancing in my room. Do the stars above ever long to be put back together? Or is it better to drift apart forever? Half there and dancing, Half there and dancing, Half there and dancing in the dark