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Текст (слова) песни: The Whitlams - Cries Too Hard
Torch the moon, burn the schools
She wrote in red on her bedroom wall -
"Nothing`s pure", the paint runs to the floor
She laughs too easily and cries too hard
Shouldn`t drink alone, the colours run
How can she forgive
When we know well what we do?
Feather scratches on her wrist
Dry run with a bread knife for a final twist
It wouldn`t be for show if it should come to this
She was born to feel it all, to see it all
When I feel so lightly it`s still burning brightly
And she won`t look away
Torch the moon, burn the schools
Why it`s a man making all the rules
Frida Khalo poster on her door
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