Lonely swing.

She was crying yesterday,

I remember.

She was trying to fly away,

On November.

She hates that faceless facade,

Oh, she hates October.

She thinks she shouldn't be bore on this decade,

Nor on December.

She's got a glass face,

On her birthday.

She hates this place,

As much as monday.

She feels she does not belong,

Not here... Not there.

She's been feeling like that for so long,

She does not fit anywhere.

She's got a broken wing,

Once more.

She's dying alone in her lonely swing.