Little ghost girl floats along,
crying tears of shame on these joyous days...

She says she's been walking a little bit too long
beneath this burning December sun...

Acrid wind burns through the desert,
as the night turns from velvet to oil...

Radio hums too-quietly in the background,
white noise to my e'er simplistic ears...

These words are not my own,
I claw for the desperately in the recesses of my...

Ideas slip between simple fingers.
Slamming to the ground, shattering into a million...

Be careful when you wear a mask
be cautious...

I'm not behind the times
I'm so far ahead...

She sits in a white room
stares at the walls...

A desperation to be a wallflower, no need for...
melting into the background, unnoticeable herself...

Little lines drawn in the damp, beach sand
how quickly she jumped across them...

In the beginning, black and terror reigned
the angels never danced nor did they sing...