Ruby lips and silver spoons on teacups edge
Girls and boys they sink and swoon; pale cheeks turn red
As she strolls by

Eyes wide open like the moon on winter nights
Yet, much warmer, like the sun but not as bright.
They’re much softer

She sings pretty songs about the days to come,
Lark, oh won’t you sing those songs for only one
Such a siren

My heart is clutched by those slender fingernails
Seaside air without her seems to taste so stale
Oh, so empty

I shall greet the darkness with a pleasantry
Heaven knows that She will bring you back to me
Through sweet slumber.