you see it written on the bathroom wall,
some perfect lines of prose.
a sweet lullabye; a dying melody,
words of a girl nobody knows.

'the tears, they fill these broken promises,
of the cup that runeth over,
and dreary as the lark that flies,
and luckier than the clover.
you see, had seen, and now you saw,
this time that's never ending,
but now, i fear, it's time again,
that we all just start pretending.'

she tells of worlds that no one's seen,
and time's that all are gone.
this world is cold and so she left;
so to these lines she has withdrawn.
 
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