Skin deep in her cold green sea
A dark and gnarled sky above
On the curved horizon a sign reads:
She believes in Angels but she can't believe in Love.

Insane in her reverie, wings sewn cross-stitch
Down the spine of her back,
Rattling panes that the wind blows
Are a reminder of all she lack.

Saw-teeth across metal is music to her ears
The shriek of a tea kettle full of insolent childhood fear.
Rude eyes shout; forget the Devil, he has no bite.
She knows better and she's not going down without a fight.

Her attempts to speak of the things she has heard
Are the sounds of a cat who has sprung on a bird.
To spread her wings is to spread her legs
And embrace the power the darkness has made.

Oh, the suffering of heartache after heart's ache,
While pulling the wings off of flies.
She can make you laugh, she's pretty smart hey,
But it isn't the same as being wise.

Every bit of her live; it just occurs to her,
Yes it does, it just occurs.
Now is that being selfish or just being blind
If fooling people well is her way to unwind.