Too Late for Wishing

Near the river, where the stones don't listen, a young girl sits near the high ground screaming. Her throat burns dry while mother's pride dissolves, But weeping willows aren't meant to hold… Wooden skin is meant to pierce and stab, young girl, wooden skin can't hold you. So hold up your chin, close your eyes, and pretend you're still breathing, Kick real hard and pretend they can hear you. Hush hush, young girl, the fairies aren't coming. Hush hush, young girl, it's too late for wishing. Your echoed screams may ripple the waters and move crowds of black ravens, But you're too loud to get help now, so stay still and be quiet, The gates of iron won't open, no matter how much you beg, Stay still, young girl, and pretend you're not drowning… But didn't you know better than to let them pollute you? And didn't you know better than to make them all hear you? Don't scream, young girl, don't you know you'll go mute? Don't scream, young girl, and don't you dare raise your voice… How dare you ask why you earned those deep markings. How dare you ask why they can't and won't listen. How dare you seek love knowing exactly what you are… Sink towards the river, the fairies aren't coming. Sink towards the river, it's too late for wishing.