She says that she is happy,
And that nothing is wrong
But I know she is lying;
Her words aren't that strong
It shows in her eyes
That her long bangs hide
I can see the real her
That she keeps inside
Something is going on
With this poor, innocent girl
Under her eyes are circles,
Her hair like a squirrels
All bunched up and tangled
This little girl would cry
When her mom rand the brush
Through the strands that went dry
Down her precious face
Rolls a tear, small and clear
It glittered in the starlight
As she knelt down to pray.
"Dear Lord," she would say
"Please let them see.
Let them see me
Without the shield"
"But I'm afraid that if they do,
They will run away in fear,
For if I put up my hair,
They will see past my tears."