In the halls,
she calls for you.
In the halls,
the walls bled blue.

From fantasy to free,
the many years must fall.
Something is here,
I see it in the bruises,
all along my tiny arms.

The dinner table is set,
the china looks so swell.
There's a voice in my head,
telling me not to tell,
but it's you,
but it's you.