I know I'm young; but that it doesn't make me brave.
I know magic is real.
and the only thing I have to do is die...but I am not afraid.

You see, I hear dead soprano's stories coursing through my veins and I know
the day I join them they will say "thank you, sister, for singing"
and I will say "thank you, sisters, for being!"
and we will choose the next little girl with wild in her mane
who is searching for her voice just to speak her name.

I know mine is plain and that my words may never be as eloquent as my day dreams
but I'll never stop telling the stars how beautiful they are as if they've never heard it before.
I know that the longest nights come after the days that are too fast
and that's about it.