The choice was mine, and mine completely
I could have any prize that I desired
I could burn with the splendor of the brightest fire
Or else, or else I could choose time

Remember I was very young then
And a year was forever and a day
So what use could fifty, sixty, seventy be?
I saw the lights, and I was on my way

And how I lived, how they shone
But how soon the lights were gone

Oh, my daughter! Oh, my son!
Understand what I have done

Eyes, hair, face, image
All must be preserved
Still life displayed forever
No less than she deserved.

Money was raised to buld a tomb,
A monument to Evita.
Only the pedestal was completed,
And Evita′s body disappeared
For seventeen years.

Writer(s): Tim Rice, Andrew Lloyd Webber<br>Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com