the Girl with the Red Hair, the scowled lips
 the Pretentious curl,
The sun's grace, but as fierce as snake venom.
Tongue made of butterfly wings and unspoken dreams. I watch from afar,
 Dare not speak a word to crush that delicate walk of prosperity.
 To whom knows where that path resides? Her life declared sweet justice or hell, like that scowl in which I fell, but you use to hide.
 Oh how the fool taunt the Girl with Red Hair.
  So beautiful,
 So sweet,
  Oh, how I won't blame you for being so meek.
 Shushed glance, she dreams to dance.
 I secretly pray, that a man will give her that chance.
I shall continue from afar, smiling and saying, "hey"
continuing so far.
 Away.