Candy

Red lips and a golden dress.

Tears suffocating under her chest.

She's the girl who knows how to laugh,

dancing under stars which fall.

But in the morning when sun rises

she forgets to glitter like Jesus.

She thinks that nevertheless she reassembles him.

A martyr is she under her sun - dipped skin.

Some pot, some Vodka, the night is here.

Boys in leather jackets, with bottles of beer.

She's their Marilyn but inside just Norma Jane.

The one who has let it all go, the one who knows pain.

"Me and Bobby McGee" is her favourite song,

in her puppet - heart it plays all night long.

People see her as tiger but she's just a kitten,

the orphan from a novel of Dickens.

They all want to become someone, all she wanted was happiness.

They don't come close enough to see, she is sad.

The girls hate her and the boys take advantage.

So later on she falls for heroine and candy.

One winter - morning she doesn't wake up on the streets.

The sirens have sung her into eternal sleep.

And the people are whispering and shaking their heads.

Just heaven is crying: snow falls for its angel's death.