One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four
How many cuts til I am on the floor?
I am an artist, my knife is the pen
My skin is the canvas, spattered with red

Roses are red, with my own blood
Violets are blue, suffocated without love
My clothes are stained
But I am to blame

I scream for help,
I scream in pain
But I get nothing
The responses? The same...

But I learned to **** it up,
I learned to fake it
Because I'm no longer an artist
I am now an actor

Able to fool even the greatest detectives
I even fooled myself