Summer was cold and winter torched my skin
This is the saddest I have ever been
I've got scissors for a tongue and I sting
It won't matter if you are thief or king
Dear, I'm a walking and talking freak show
Nature knows only in me rain and snow
The puppeteers would love to grab my strings
For they know I've fallen and lost my wings
Mud and filth protect my skin from disease
They leave no rosy lips for them to seize
And since then I've been found where shadows play
Darkness knows how to make me feel okay
And when the master of the scythe himself
Takes one look at me he would kill himself
