your pretty blue eyes and her pink party dress,
Twice as nice but such a mess,
As cleaning your plate from the ice cream cake,
you wish you had the patience to bake.
and the black moon rises on her pretty white face.
Revealing the wounds that even time can't erase.
And you throw a red rose at her feet with a sigh.
A kiss to the wind is like a kiss to goodbye.
And just when you think it's the last time you see her,
You spot her again, your Gothic Ballerina-
Gorgeous in black and tinted in red-
A pity, your beautiful dancer is dead.

 
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