This letter was... was supposed to be different
It was supposed to laugh although I don't laugh
This letter was... was supposed not to cry but it cries
Although nothing is happening in my life
I'm thinking, looking at the lines of words
What can somebody like me achieve
Somebody who let down her own self
Lark Street 6, Ilona
I lack the rose-coloured spectacles
When in the mirror I see a women
Who can't see without a few
Happy pink pills
And what does this world have
To give me as a gift before I die?
I enclose a picture taken two years ago
Lark Street 6, Ilona
To get up in the morning, they go to sleep at night
They chase after the money instead of living
And I... I can't do anything about the fact
That I don't want to be like them... be like them
Probably to love means to
Hate each other like husband and wife
Another fight is going on in the kitchen
Lark Street 6, Ilona
This letter was... was supposed to be different
It was supposed to laugh although I don't laugh
This letter was... was supposed not to cry but it cries
Although nothing is happening in my life
No, no, no, no
(A sheet of paper and a mark of the lipstick
With the pen and errors
Without words and commas
That fight with thoughts
An ordinary sheet of paper with black lines
With burning cheeks
With somebody who gave the girl a bottle
With perfumes)
Lark Street 6, Ilona