This is the girl For whom all tears fall This is the girl Who was having a ball Just a dark smear masking the eyes Spirited away, hurrying inside This is the girl That crossed the bind This is the song about smouthering vine Twisted as laurels to crown her head Raised as a reef upon her bed This is the girl This the blind that turned in wine This is the wine of the house, it is said This is the girl who yearned to be heard So much for cradling a smouldering bird This is the girl This is the girl This is the girl For whom all tears fall This is the dirl Who was having a ball This is the girl For whom all tears have shead This is the wine of the house, it is said This the blind that turned in wine This is the wine of the house, it is said This is the girl who yearned to be heard So much for cradling a smouldering bird This is the girl This is the girl This is the girl