There’s that girl with those empty eyes,
You know, I’ve never seen her cry.
She hides her face beneath black hair,
I’ve felt her touch, there’s nothing there.
Her voice, it sounds so distant and hollow,
Though seldom heard, it’s hard to follow.
Sometimes I wonder what her life is for,
You’d think someone would want much more.
Oh, sure she wants, there is no doubt,
But often times she does without.
I bet she longs to be set free.
You ask how I know,
Well, that girl is me.