Tenderly, sympathy, each stroke of the pen
Tears in her penmanship, writing again
Tragedy entangling beautiful stories
Fallen angel jots down faded history

Slicing apart dreams with which she's well-acquainted
Sweat and blood compose the pictures she's painted
Frail in her beauty, so silently she writes
As pen presses to paper deep within the night

Starving eyes met and stirred conflicted hearts
Realizing the pain and sorrow that flows into her art
And on they read until she transfers tears into our eyes
As she whispers such tragedies, a goodnight and goodbye