She likes to paint pictures of herself
And huge men in a dwarf world.
She knows stories that she never tells,
Most of them she has experienced herself.
Like the one about the bad wolf,
Who comes every now and then
And asks her every time,
That she never say a dying word,
Because otherwise he would punish her terribly for it.
When her mommy holds her in her arms,
She would like to cry and confess everything,
But she is afraid and she is ashamed.
She doesn't know what to do and tries to look away.
When the bad wolf comes every now and then
And demands from her every time
That she never say a dying word,
Because he is her otherwise punished terribly for it.
She is as shy as a deer,
You hardly notice her because she doesn't talk much.
She prefers to stay by herself,
Prays to God and makes wishes in doing so,
That the bad wolf never comes back
And demands with a tight grip around her neck,
That she doesn't say a single dying word to anyone,
Because otherwise he would kill her punished terribly,
That she doesn't say a single dying word to anyone,
Because otherwise he would punish her terribly for it.

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