“She
paints a pretty picture, but this picture has a twist.
You see, her paintbrush is a razor, and her canvas is her
wrist.
She paints her pretty picture in a color that's blood
red.
While using her sharp paintbrush, she ends up finally dead.
Her pretty pictures fading quite slowly on her
arm,
the blood is not racing through
her,
she can no
longer do harm.
She painted her pretty picture, but
her picture had a twist.
You see, her mind was the razor
and,
her heart was just her
wrist. ”
-Not
mine.-