the little lovely girl,
with flowers in hair,
wears diamonds in her dreams,
and her heart gasps for air,
cause its burstin at the seams,
she's the flower child,
who has a soul that gleams,
she longs and yearns,
to be free,
but grins and smiles,
and laughs with glee,
and, for the girl who smiles the brightest,
inside is the shyest,
her heart is a mystery,
sealed shut with an unfound key,
but what is inside her head,
is nothing of secrets to me,
she's held down by the weight,
the weary weight of hate,
and the daggers thrown by others,
on the wings of their own words,
may decide her fate,
so misunderstood,
so helplessly confused,
tired of being used,
she's a little sad,
kinda alittle mad,
but still remains hopeful,
of what she can still see,
the little lovely girl,
with flowers in hair,
is a mystery to all.
