wee words.

The girl’s some sort of genius.
Some kind of magical being.
She’s so full of music,
And her tunes ring through the night.
But she threw it all away,
On some kind of missing link.
A moment’s weakness for an eternal mistake.
Oh it never really seems fair.

The boy’s some kind of genius.
He lives on the corner,
Of that run-down building,
On the side we dare not go.
He was a visionary, some kind of connoisseur.
And his was the bluest eyes,
Anyone would ever see.
But he could not take the staring,
All the talking and debris.
So he ended it all, with a pitiful fall.
A moment’s sadness for an honest mistake.
It’s never really fair.
But I guess that’s how it is.