I see you stood there
when it all comes crashing down
on your green eyes, your red hair
and your long lost heart.
Maybe I should feel bad for you
or for what I did,
but it's just that I don't.
I hear you now and that age old line;
"I'm an actress, a writer and a singer on the side."
You're up and down and everywhere in between.
Has dawn finally broken for you?
Or have you just broken again?
Twice strained chai stains teeth once white,
dreaming of my cigarette smoke.
And here I sit,
I suppose I should say sorry
But I see again
that it's just not me, is it.
I suppose you know your future,
but hey, you don't want to know.
You read them tarot cards,
you pseudo goth,
and you didn't like what you saw.
Hangman, tragedy, princes & stranger.
Celestial eyes just forgot to shine.
I suppose this will make you cry again.
Cry and I should be sad,
but then again it's too cold for tears
or maybe I'm just not that nice anyway.