This is the girl for whom all tears fall
This is the girl who was having a ball
Just a dark smear masking the eyes
Smeared it away, blurring in size
This is the girl that crossed the line
This is the song of that smothering vine
Twisted as laurels to crown her head
Raised as a wreath upon her bed
This is the girl
This is the blood that turned into wine
This is the wine of the house it is said
This is the girl who yearned to be heard
So much for cradling a smouldering bird
This is the girl
This is the girl
This is the girl for all tears fallen
This is the girl that’s having a ball
Twisted as laurels to crown her head
This is the wine of the house it is said
This is the blood that turned into wine
This is the wine of the house it is said
This is the girl who cryed to be heard
So much for cradling a smouldering bird
This is the girl