Seperate

My soul to keep, too soon to speak.

Hush,
Hush

Little girl, the soul to hard te send away.

Dearest darling, has no one left to caress
Crimson roses spill from her bosom
The lifeless lush of locks, spread thin and course.

Her soul so soon to speak, her heart no longer driven to a pulse.

Crimson, everywhere, no drops to despair.
A beautiful soul, a beautiful heart so gone so soon.

Hush,
Hush

Little girl, so soon to leave. So soon and she screams.