Patti Smith

This is the girl
For whom all tears fall
This is the girl
Who was having a ball
Just a dark smear masking the eyes
Spirited away, hurrying inside
This is the girl
That crossed the bind
This is the song about smouthering vine
Twisted as laurels to crown her head
Raised as a reef upon her bed
This is the girl
This the blind that turned in wine
This is the wine of the house, it is said
This is the girl who yearned to be heard
So much for cradling a smouldering bird
This is the girl