There is a storm in her heart,
It rains through her eyes.
The silent lips of her,
Tells the worst she had suffered.
Its not you,its not i,
Its the lady who is in blue.
Her pale face has the divine beauty,
But unfortunately she couldn't be any queen.
She sells the roses at railway crossing,
Just to survive another day.
She gives the roses and keep the thorns,
But can't live like me o' you.
we got the luxuries,we got the comfort,
I wish someday she could get the same too.