Lita Rossana Ford (born September 19, 1958) is an American rock guitarist, vocalist and songwriter, who was the lead guitarist for The Runaways in the late 1970s before embarking on a solo career in the 1980s.
Ford was born to a British father and an Italian mother in London, England. When she was about in second grade, she moved with her family to the United States, eventually settling in the Los Angeles area. Inspired by Ritchie Blackmore's work with Deep Purple, she began playing the guitar at the age of 11. Her vocal range is mezzo-soprano.
In 1975, at age 16, Ford was recruited by recording impresario Kim Fowley to join the all-female rock band he was assembling called The Runaways. The band soon secured a recording contract and released their first album in 1976. The band's "jailbait on the run" gimmick garnered significant media attention and The Runaways became a successful recording and touring act during their late 1970s heyday. Ford's lead-guitar playing became an integral element of the band's sound until their eventual break-up in April 1979.
Black, is it dark enough?
Is it hot or cold or stark enough?
Black, is it dirty or sad?
Is it old or cruel or broken or bad?
Black, is it all you see
When you close your eyes, you think of me?
Black, black, black
Black, is it nightmare or dream?
Is it midnight sky or silent scream?
Black, is it the chains you wear?
Or the color of the cross you bear?
Black, is it what you hate?
The hangman's hood or the offering plate?
Black, black, black
Is it the shame that drives you back?
Is it the train that jumps the track
Just as you're slipping through the cracks?
Black, black
Black, is it your medicine
Your soul, your hole or the shape you're in?
Black, is it your wedding gown
Your eyes, your lies or the truth you've found?
Black, is it beautiful?
Is it animal or criminal?
Black, black, black
Is it the shame that burns your soul?
Is it the fear you can't control?
Is it the night that won't let go?
Black, black
Black, is it the enemy
That hides inside of you and me?
Black, is it the preacher's cloak
Your father's curse or your mother's joke?
Black, is it the pain you own
Or the plague that's eating at your bones?
Black, black, black
Is it the ashes of your dreams?
Is it the nature of your greed?
Is it the walls between you and me?
Black, black
Black