Buck 65 "Cries a Girl"
I was raised on a dirt road: ghost town, stray dogs, hold on, a gold mine had closed down. I knew the woods like the back of my hand and I would shoot the breeze with the roots of trees. Go down by the river and watch the way the devil dances. I never took his hand, even though I did have several chances. Everybody slept as the morning dew turned to frost, darkness moved in and somebody burned a cross.
A girl named Stella Quewin was prettier than you'd imagine. The town should have given her the crown for the beauty pageant. But instead, some local pinhead started spreading rumors about the Quewins being inbreds. And whats worse, people believed it because the family was dirt poor- down on their luck, so that made it hurt more. Picking up garbage, mowing the grass (at this point Stella stopped going to class). You know how they ridicule the kid in school (and this shit is enough to make anybody feel like a misfit). She made herself invisible and hid inside a house of mirrors. Whenever the fear stops so do the tear drops, but fear is forever and lies become legend. Growing, eventually, slowly, exponentionally. She should have been a cover girl treated like a princess but shes an enigma haunted by the stigma of incest.
She tried to hide the scars. Her name reminds me of the stars. I saw diamonds dividing in the corners of her eyes.
One horse town, known for the most softness. Little old school house, burned down post office. Blueberries and bullrushes, a tree with a tire swing. Volunteer firemen's fair, the whole entire thing. Stella was heartbroken, decided to start smoking. Bad taste in her mouth, she grew into a sad face. Her few friends were worried and her parents were always proud of her, but she never escaped from under the cloud cover. A woman reduced- she was eaten by a monster- and after all these years have past it still haunts her. It whispers her name when shes trying instead to just listen to music while she's lying in bed.
Now the story of Stella is one that every child knows, but the witch in the wood is more like a wild rose.
A girl named Stella Quewin was prettier than you'd imagine. The town should have given her the crown for the beauty pageant. But instead, some local pinhead started spreading rumors about the Quewins being inbreds. And whats worse, people believed it because the family was dirt poor- down on their luck, so that made it hurt more. Picking up garbage, mowing the grass (at this point Stella stopped going to class). You know how they ridicule the kid in school (and this shit is enough to make anybody feel like a misfit). She made herself invisible and hid inside a house of mirrors. Whenever the fear stops so do the tear drops, but fear is forever and lies become legend. Growing, eventually, slowly, exponentionally. She should have been a cover girl treated like a princess but shes an enigma haunted by the stigma of incest.
She tried to hide the scars. Her name reminds me of the stars. I saw diamonds dividing in the corners of her eyes.
One horse town, known for the most softness. Little old school house, burned down post office. Blueberries and bullrushes, a tree with a tire swing. Volunteer firemen's fair, the whole entire thing. Stella was heartbroken, decided to start smoking. Bad taste in her mouth, she grew into a sad face. Her few friends were worried and her parents were always proud of her, but she never escaped from under the cloud cover. A woman reduced- she was eaten by a monster- and after all these years have past it still haunts her. It whispers her name when shes trying instead to just listen to music while she's lying in bed.
Now the story of Stella is one that every child knows, but the witch in the wood is more like a wild rose.