She's an inferno of nightmares,
A Paradise of daydream,
She will knock your heart's door,
But, you better not let her in.
She's the breath on winter windows,
Ever heard a funeral cry?
She has a voice you'll get addicted to,
Like a child's lullaby.
But a deadly smoke without fire,
With lips of a sinner, she'll stir ,
You better not pull her in,
It'll be too hard to let go of her.— Nátasha
— she bites. Beware.