She's wearing her scars
like regalia jewelry
upon her wrist.
She's wearing her heart
like her favorite pair
of high-heeled shoes.
She's getting dressed like
no one's in the room
And while she's got nowhere to go
she has a wardrobe of thoughts
in her scattered mind
She's wearing a dream of mascara
upon her eyes;
blinded in reality, smeared by tears
A silk brassiere of better years
comforts all she holds so dear
She's getting dressed like
no one's in the room
She once thought she had somewhere to go
but now all she has
is a wardrobe of thoughts
in her scattered mind
Her chemise breezes upon her thighs
like her soul's come out to play, while
earrings of emotion deaden cries
of all we have to say
She's getting dressed like
no one's in the room,
but we're all in here today
to ease her soul
and high-heeled soles,
as the edge of her heart is weary;
to fix her dreams
upon her eyes,
now lashed a little teary;
to show her silk's
not the only comfort
in her life
that may exist;
and to ease her pain,
the severed chain
upon her wounded wrist.
She's getting dressed
like no one sees
the look inside her damaged eyes,
while all I hope...
is that
she hears our cries in time
So perhaps one day
she'll go somewhere
and leave her past behind
And perhaps one day
she'll find a way
to clear her scattered mind