She's sitting there again like always.
Her spirit broken by his hands.
She's there waiting for a miracle,
someone to save her from his demands.

She's told him how she wants to go,
but he just cannot let her leave.
There's no one to help her along,
so she accepts it while she grieves.

She once was beautiful I can see,
now sadness covers her face.
I wonder how many time in her life,
she's truely felt a loving embrace.

Everyday I come to sit with her,
always outside and always alone.
She never looks up to see who's there,
but it's almost time to take her home.

Once strong but sweet and ready to love,
all that's left of her now is a shell.
The place hollowed out by sorrow
is where her spirit used to dwell.

He knows he can't make it without her.
He refuses to be left all alone.
He's never been able to see her pain,
or realize she's already been gone.

It's almost time to fly with her now,
to a place she no longer remembers.
If she can resist the thoughts of suicide,
she'll go home with me in September.

Until then I've been sent to hold her,
to wrap my wings around her tight,
to protect her from those around her,
and catch all her tears at night.

She doesn't know I love her yet,
but in the coming months she will.
She'll walk with me on streets of gold.
Finally my dreams will be fulfilled.