Pounding heart, diseased but strong;
She sees his hands and knows that they're where hers belong.
Under attack, she must get back
The things she felt before the virus killed her song.
Unraveling knots disturb her sleep;
A red haze on her young face as she gets to her feet.
She won't let go, through the vertigo
She clutches love and things almost too beautiful to keep.
I know her hands, I've heard her voice
When she called me back to her a hundred years ago.
I love her still and even will
Feel for her what she can't take and hide things she can't know.
She made mistakes, she lost her taste,
And now that she's finally hungry they take her food away.
In love , misused and bruised by hate,
A list of martyred lovers too long for her to say.
A veil of tears, a mask of fears,
Those who know her know she's not difficult to please.
She is shy, and if you ask her why,
She'll cry you tears enough to fill the seven seas.
She was ill and still is frail,
But when you've got eternity it's difficult to fail.
She survived, and she's alive,
With each past life she's gotten harder to unrail.