She is beautiful being,
She’s hiding in this loving dark
She sings plays piano, smiling .
And she lets winds inside her house.

Black lace skirt that reaches floor.
Grass eyes, grey hair and “the red Moscow”.
A heart of gold, a mind of ice.
A crimson sweater over that all.

Black kitty’s wandering the place.
There are dead flowers in a vase.
You think she is in pain, well it’s the case.
She’s weaving wreaths now with a sad face.