Ghosts of the past, that could feel no more
Only the songs of the wind, that flowed through dusk
The humble sound of winter shores
And significant signs of lonely disgust

Broken violins, and a cat with green eyes
Beauty inspires a satin sheet, but to no surprise

Trapped in a box, that's made of ice
All you are surrounded by is evil men forming twice

A shattered mirror, by her own disgust
Skin can not be as deep or beauty of lust