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 Spirited away buried in sighs.
This is the girl who crossed the line This is the song of the smothering vine Twisted as laurel to crown her head Laid 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 smothering bird
This is the girl. This is the girl.
This is the girl for whom all tears fall This is the girl who was having a ball This is the laurel 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 yearned to be heard So much for cradling a smothering bird
This is the girl. This is the girl. This is the girl.