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, buried in size This is the girl that crossed the line This is the song about smothering fine Twisted as laurel to crown her head Laid as a wreath upon her bed This is the girl This the blood that turned into 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 smoldering bird This is the girl This is the girl This is the girl for whom all tears fall This is the girl who was having a ball This is the laurel to crown her head 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 cried to be heard So much for cradling a smoldering bird This is the girl This is the girl This is the girl (this is the girl, this is the girl)