Bailarina de Papel
Maquiavelia
Paper Ballerina
Paper ballerina
Cinderella of pain
I feel my heart is cold
I’m the frost on your skin.
And every dawn you fell, bleeding out
It still smells like your perfume
Of blood and camphor.
Your dreams are so strange
So sad and deceitful
Suffering is your sin
You’re making a mistake.
After all, this is who I am
This is my world and I’m happy
Listen now with care
The dead love despite betrayal.
So ruthless, without compassion
You forgot me in a corner
The truth is that now
I don’t know who I am
My autopsy said, you poisoned my heart.
Paper ballerina
Cinderella of pain
I feel my heart is cold
I’m the frost on your skin.
