Empty porcelain dolls
Wearing pants and a sweater
In the wrong type of weather
Behind closed doors
Their tears hit the floors
Just like a feather
Never to be heard by another
And through cold midnight window glows
Is where red liquid flows
Empty porcelain dolls
In the back of the cave mind there is whys
The echoes have no replies
So in fear they clatter and shake
And they wear pants and a sweater
in the wrong type of weather
Just so you don’t know that they can break
With words and hands misused
Pasts haunt, and futures are abused
And more empty porcelain dolls are produced