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She's a song unsung |
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She's the wild orchid in your ugly swamp |
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She's a song unsung |
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and the only white walls of her mind |
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know what that song sounds like |
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The pills, the pills |
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and the Dr.'s promises just ain't doing the trick |
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cause the arms of nothing she falls asleep in |
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can still bring the razor to the wrist |
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The TV screens, the magazines |
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scream at you like the dogs of hell |
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advertising and advising you to be |
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anyone but your: |
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beautiful self |
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Prince Charming never brought you flowers |
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just loveless lifetime alone |
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No roses for you, just unlocked doors |
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and the deafening silence of your phone |
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So block your ears, close your eyes |
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remember that you're a golden soul fallen from the |
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boring, heartless Hollywood herd of lies that they call |
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Beautiful |
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With no shoulder, no hand, no body, no man, no door, |
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no heart to let you |
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The sun can take too long |
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to end the endless night |
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I hear you, I feel you, I bleed with you |
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when our hearts begin to scream |
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"This life can feel too long" |
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But at night, you're dancing through the pain |
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even when you're the only one |
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no rose, no sky as full of the beauty of the girl who dies |
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but rises with every morning's sun |
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alone |
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She dances alone |
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alone; so beautiful |
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alone; her own romance |
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alone; Lady Lazarus' LifeSustaining Dance |
