There’s a girl over there with a curl in her hair, She’s wearing a sunny-bright sundress. She sits in a park under a tree all alone, And she wonders if she’ll ever make sense. Her hair golden brown, a hat on her crown, She sits and she stares into nothing. She sees what we miss for she sees a dark abyss, And her tears are beginning to pool there. She’s a lost little girl with a curl in her hair, She’d rather be at home in bed crying. While people are playing and laughing around her, She can stop the thoughts about dying. With not much time left, slipping quite fast, She has fought the bad for far too long. She can’t do anything to escape her tortured past, The time has come to sing her swan song.