I met a girl with fire on her head and in her heart.
Her arms were lined with scars, curved perfectly with the Reaper's Scythe.
She was beautiful, but she didn't know it.

And isn't that the story?
A sad, beautiful little thing saved by a shining knight,
because no one cares unless you're beautiful or dying.
I am neither. So where do I belong?
A young woman- no longer a girl- never graced by lips in adoration or sympathy.
Never known love,
what is love, really?

Can't anyone tell me? Because I'm sitting inside this bricked up wall,
invisible to certainty and all the passerby.
They pass on by, pass me by, can't they see me cry?
This wall is too **** high.  
Just like the last guy.

And I was dead before I was born.
What a cold heart, I'm never warm.
I found the world, but it was broken.
I found love but it was wasted,
Like the last man I tasted.