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The Dream Machine --- The Imagination of the World Wide Web
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She won't open them to receive,
Or give what she doesn't have.
She won't open them to comfort
The string of pearls down her cheeks.
If they pray, they pray for love.
If they beg, they beg for tomorrow.
Some may call it sorrow
And others blame shame,
But an angel's head will never rise
No matter what you name.
It won't rise to see the sun,
For the sun doth burn her eyes.
It won't rise to see you laugh,
For you she does despise.
It's in grief of my loss.
If it hangs for shame,
It's the cause of her heart.