She sits her lonely soul
Down on the bench at the window, the window
Looking out at the grass,
Down the road she'll stroll, remake the typo, to find herself again,
She'll find herself again
She's such an outcast
No one trails her lonely path
Back to the aftermath
That sold her soul to start
People say she's a freak
Laugh and just walk along
Keep a steady turn of cheek
I believe they are wrong
Your chains and black clothing
The pitch of your skin
Those hands do your loathing, your arms hold your sins
Your hair shaved off, into those crazy spikes
That peirce my heart, with all that might
Those two colored eyes show both sides of the world
Baby you didn't have to cut so deep
Crazy, why would you just leave it leak
Let me hold up your blood soaked arms
When it dries, let me lick your scars
You say it soothe's the pain
Have I not taken any away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem