Lyrics Photojournalist - Small Black

Photojournalist

What had become of the woman
Who lingered around
In the photo?
The daughter of Diane
Would never, ever be bound
To the basic
To rise up again
Rise up again
Like a ghost I saw it
Rise up again
Rise up again
Like a ghost
Here with me
You will
Stop, I’m not ready to know
Who she was
Stop, I’m not ready to know
Who she was
There is a difference between
What you want them to know
And what they have to know
There in the mirror
Reality never was found
From the waist up
To rise up again
Rise up again
Like a ghost
It started to
Rise up again
Rise up again
Like a ghost
Here with me
You will
Stop, I’m not ready to know
Who she was
Stop, I’m not ready to know
Who she was