fuck it.

why radio why

she was born into hands of sand
with melody in her ears
her heartstrings played an infinite sonnet of sadness
her porcelain eyes cried tears of emerald
a china doll with cigarettes glued to her fingers
how long must her melancholy linger
in her scent,her touch
lost in the ashes of time
they'll blown away by the whistling summer wind

why radio why
she would cry
why radio why
if she could die
in peace
knowing her voice would forever be obscure
from her peer's piercing and prying eyes
she wouldnt have to ask
why radio why

she cleansed herself by showering in her sins
a needle and a syringe kisses her flawless skin
a tidal wave of euphoria floods her braincells
and through her heart-shaped lens,the world is nothing but a jailcell
for an angel with wings of dove,pure,white and clean
how long must her misery stain
her heart,her face
as they age along with the ashes of time
they'll be blown away by the whistling summer wind