The whiter the hair,
the wiser you become,
Will my hair turn to gray
when I am gone,
Beauty is all that matters,
where I'm from,
To fit the mold,
I'll do all that I can.
I want to run,
I want to fly,
With a string on my feet,
I can just try,
Is there something left for me,
Find me a river in a vast sea.
My cries,
whispers in the air,
It's there,
passed by without a care,
Why is life nothing but fair,
Can I just leave this warfare.
