Golden boys and pretty girls,
blue ties and pink frills,
bodies beneath the floor boards,
eleven different kills.

We were the picture of sophistication,
Red lipstick and champagne glasses,
but now I've traded in my glass display case and dresses
for padded rooms and suicide jackets,

All I wanted was to make you happy,
but I was drowning in this glass box you built me,
I'm so sorry,
but this box can't control my raging demons
. . .
and neither can I.