She's the neighborhood figure,
the bright, cheery one
the apple of their eyes,
the light in the sun.
The girl is of daisies
She's pure and she's whole.
simple, refined, with a perfected soul.

She's all they want her to be.
but not truly.
In her mind
she is not as they see.

She suffers in silence until the lark cries her name
and the people all hear but never retain.

They dont know the Lark and the Girl are one in the same.

Yes, she's the girl, but the girl is the lark
and the lark is the sorrow.
the lark is the pain.
the lark cries to no one, but cannot be contained.
For once, she is truthful but no one will see
for just as she spreads her dead, blackened wings
the sun comes to clip them.
She falls to her knees.
And just like that
the lark is gone
it doesn't take long
before the girl has been groomed and chained
and again, only empty smiles remain.
and again, only empty smiles remain.

Then as day turns to dusk
and as dark swallows light
the lark embraces the cold, lonely night.
She's a mouth full of lint and a soul filled with tears.
She's a song that haunts those who hear.

and the people all hear but never retain.

They dont know the Lark and the Girl are one in the same