Sometimes I just feel fragile,
I’m not as strong as I pretend.
I am delicate, like china,
I know how all of this will end.

My heart feels heavy,
I try to remember the cure.
But everything in my head,
Comes out trite and impure.

Sit and listen to The Smiths,
All the world fades to dust.
Daydreaming of girls,
With hair the colour of rust.