She has a whispering look

There, all alone, on the bench

She watches the world go round

And a fake smile is on her face

Cracked lips are covered with lipstick

But the gloomy notes from her speech

Reach higher and higher

To the men’s oblivion

Softly her hand reaches for her friend

But he’s been burned out

Leaving her with a bitter taste

On those marble lips

Slowly age will catch up

And she will be alone

With no world to pass in front of her.