They call her crazy, but she says its not true.
She spends late hours, thinking it through.
How about bliss? A trip you don't return?
Or just a quick swig to ease the concern?
A thick dose of Oxy? That'll do the trick.
Oh, but that girl, how she fears the hard trip...
She's quiet, frustrated, biting in her lip.
A little bud might help, but she knows she won't quit.
Her head's always pulsing, pain in every blink.
Blurry eyes, blood dripping in the bathroom sink.
No it's not normal, but that's not the point.
She doesn't care at all as she picks up a joint.
One more round, in a circle we go,
What really happened to her, we'll never know.
But she keeps her knives and her blades aligned,
She brushes her hair and she smiles at the signs.
Sure, he's there. She says he keeps her sane.
But we all know, he's no part of this game.
"How 'bout a kiss?" What? on those ***** lips?
Never, she vows. But aloud "How 'bout this?"
*****? Not quite. She's all about god.
"Maybe he'll let her in," her mother just nods.
In to heaven? Well now that's a thought.
She'd probably be sent there if she ever got caught.
But the sin marks the sinner, forever amen.
So she starves to get thinner, and tries it again.
One crimson line straight down the snow.
This last time, she'll lose her subtle glow.
No more hospitals, and no more fear.
That girl is leaving, the one he held so dear.
They'll cry and they'll sniffle, but deep down they'll all know,
Nobody wanted her, the girl had to go.
Quick like a light, but slow like the wind.
The way that she started, and the way she will end.
They said she was crazy, now they know it was true.
She picks up the knife, there's only one thing to do...