Too Much Of A Thought Out Thing

Something in her name The rage she makes you claim The madness of a strain Is it all in vain or not The circle in her eyes Black and big in size Catching all the light To see that she might be wrong A fool to the scholars, a fool She'll never go alone The rain always fills up the pool She'll never go alone She'll never go alone Waiting by the door Stuck inside your head With all you could have said Blinking twice to get Attention to the next hello Raising both her hands Disarms you with a dance You never had a chance Against the ripped up pants you bought A fool to the scholars, a fool You'll never go alone The rain always fills up the pool Waiting by the door Hanging Hanging Waiting by the door Hanging Hanging Just a little glimpse You never had a chance There never was a sign It's made up in your mind