Conceived out of lust. Born only to turn dust. Helplessly crying before a stanger's door, who her parents shut her from the world. But leaves her to wounder forevermore. Perhaps it'll be better that way, for the truth bring only dismay to the child she wrongly abandoned only to be loved again each day.
By the strangers who took her in. From candle to candle with care they watched her grow; her first step, they watched signed her first word. They watched her builded her first castle. They raised to be loved, raised her in maddness, surrounded with joy, and happiness in a stranger's home. Mother 'n' father whom cause her illness. They are the only parents that she will ever knew. Then one day when flowers slept in dew a stranger appeared before their door demanding the daughter what she had never have image. We don't ever convery anymore.
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