There's a ******* the street
Who walks with a different tune every other week

Everytime her eyes are sought under her thick raven bangs
Your guess is as good as mine, what filled those depths of pine

Pure ecstasy bleeding through
Lifeless clouds of avolition
Piercing daggers of ice ire

Her heart beats just like yours,
Her tears flow like ours
Her laughs crack like a long lost sister's

Yet above all, she is solely Miss cellaneous, and will always be to those who see only her eyes