She stabbed herself

She returned to prove, I shouldn’t have regretted her pale-faced love, then disappeared

She returned to stab to death, her ghost, screwing in head

To pick up her remains and goes with the wind

She returned, as losers after a big night gambling, to bet on the past between me and her

She returned to dissolve in vodka the last sweet words

To stir up the stove, and throw my letters

She returned, and not all folks who return are always slid in tears of remorse

She returned to take the rest of her from the cabin of heart, and goes for ever

Thanks to her that she returned to clear my heart from dust of old furniture

Thanks to her that she stabbed herself in my head to death, and took her body

And I was born again from a slit she left in the soul like tree of a mighty will

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