Tears run down her face
b l o o d runs down her wrist

A mIXeD up girl with noone to turn to;
who would d i e for one last k.i.s.s

Lets hold hands on the porch swing, under the moon.
We can lie on a blanket, out back in the yard.
Then we'll dance to the radio, right up till dawn

its part of a song--

like it?
you should love it :-]]