Александр Барыкин Белладонна ^минус

Oh Belladonna never knew the pain 
Maybe I'm crazy, maybe it'll drive you insane 
The open letter just carelessly placed 
And you move in silence, the tea so delicately laced 
 
(1) Out of reach, out of touch 
How you've learned to hate so much 
 
Came from passion, and you gave it a name 
The fingers are poisoned like needles in the drivin' rain 
So smile discreetly as you watch with such grace 
Now I must slip away, but can you forget my face