"All Moanday, Tearday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday." 
― James Joyce

She was watching through the dusty window...
The evening avenue...
With dream-freeze in her eye,
With hope that she can fly....
Far... from this place,
From familiar lairs,
She had dusted so many years,
Was tired.

Who knows where she goes
How long will she go
She has to throw
Hard life.

Now she was going [bad word] away like the others,
To leave her home,
She was leaving lonely
All her past.

Who knows where she goes
How far will she go
She has to throw
Hold on...

She is walking through this dusty window
This evening avenue.
With dream-freeze in her eye
With hope that she could fly.............