She's an angel with a dirty mouth
A saint who plays with darkness
Her soul is made of night and stardust
And her eyes reflect the moon
Her heart beats a broken rhythm
As she dances on her bleeding feet
She sings a bittersweet melody
And plays a warbling tune
Her lips are cracked and taste of salt and wine
Her eyes are dark with memories and bright with dreams
Her hands are dirty as they hold her bruised and battered heart
And her mouth spins wild tales of her wanderings
She prefers roses with thorns
She likes her coffee dark
She picks old books over new ones
And she always chooses the chipped cup
She loves thunderstorms:
the wind tangling her hair
the rain soaking her clothes
and the lightning and thunder breaking open the sky
She prefers roses with thorns
She likes her coffee dark
She picks old books over new ones
And she always chooses the chipped cup
She loves thunderstorms:
the wind tangling her hair
the rain soaking her clothes
and the lightning and thunder breaking open the sky
She doesn't seek perfection
She doesn't feel the constant need to smile
She embraces her flaws and messiness
And appreciates her tears
She dances with her demons
She flirts with her fears
She treasures all her broken pieces
And she isn't afraid of the dark
She is a rebel with new found independence
She is a dreamer who now dreams of rain
She is a wanderer who is trying a new path
She is a girl working to find herself in a crazy world.
She doesn't feel the constant need to smile
She embraces her flaws and messiness
And appreciates her tears
She dances with her demons
She flirts with her fears
She treasures all her broken pieces
And she isn't afraid of the dark
She is a rebel with new found independence
She is a dreamer who now dreams of rain
She is a wanderer who is trying a new path
She is a girl working to find herself in a crazy world.
