Bullets In Your Voice

Bullets In Your Voice

The poor girl is in tears
It keeps her up in the night
The worst of her fears
When you think she's alright
She doesn't like to spend the hours
Before she goes to bed
Pebble by pebble picking the flowers
For each tear she wishes not to shed
She doesn't like being this way
She hates how you just sit around
Each and very single day
She prays for silence and not a single sound

--