Из альбома: Blood From a Stone
A weak hand reaches out now
Fear is in her eyes, whispers a curly prayer
No mascara tears
Is she a performer? Is her pain real?
Our insufficiency, feeds apathy
«She even lost her heart», we say
Keep our own away
The more she needs, the less I give
If she’s in vain, I leave her
The harder she tries, the worse I see her
All that is weak, I leave behind