The lonely girl seems to free her mind at night.
She uses her words instead of her tears.
They are all used up.
All she has left it's the poetry.

She writes how she wants someone.
How she has so much love to give.
How she wants to sing her sorrows.
How she wants to drown her pain.
How she wants to make a good life.
How she is badly hoping to end at all.
How she wants to suffacate her regrets.

But she is alone, she's a lonely girl.
But no one wants her love.
But she doesn't sing well.
But she is living on her pain.
But she is too sad to have anything good.
But she is waiting for something to change.
But she doesn't have anything but regrets.

Her life is just too inspiring for her sad writing.
Her poems are always too hurtful.