A long, endless, breakfast table in an otherwise empty room, young girl, violinist,
the center of her own attention, her memories of my child, tries to understand it, tries to make her proud.
The shades go down, it's in her head, painted room, can't be like there's something wrong, don't call me dark, not fair to, the picture kept will remind me, don't call me dark,
not fair to, the picture kept will remind me, don't call me.
Yes, she holds the hand that holds her down, she will rise above.
Don't call me dark, not fair to, the picture kept will remind me, don't call me dark, not fair to me, the picture kept will remind me, don't call me dark,
not fair to me, the picture kept will remind me, don't call me dark, not fair to me, the picture kept will remind me, don't call me.
The shades go down, the shades go down, the shades go, go.
We don't need no, we don't need no dark control.
Comes down, there's a glass, teacher leave those tears alone.
Thank you.
