She does not have those stars
In her eyes
Which create poets out of
A dabbler
The fair twinkle of dreams
Floating about
In the abyss tons
As they speak
Pre Chorus
The mere look of
Who makes them gloat with bliss
No, she is
Different, eloquent, yes
Her
Aha, there she goes
Her
On no, here I go
With that melancholy charm
Smoothly creeps
In their veins annexing
Their awareness
Her bizarre appeals when it speaks
They're beguiled
Rivetting even their bones
To herself
Pre-Chorus
The mere look of
Who makes them gloat with bliss
No, she is
Different, eloquent, yes
Her
Aha, there she goes
Her
On no, here I go