So cut me into pieces then
Grab my hair, my head and hands
And bury them deep
6 feet under where
I will not rest nor will I sleep

Tortured within this system
A living doll played by sick men
Men waiting to die like me
Standing in line to die next
Like I have

I have died a million times
Each in the wounded hearts of every little girl
Been sliced in ruin with no words
To speak, to sing or carry this song

No not for me—they move along
The dead can't speak
Only eyes from a mother's son
Oh, how they will keep

Keep and keep and keep
Greedy little calloused hands
Attached to those who
Deserve such bitter ends

You have taken everything
Played with this corpse too long
Decay and decompose what
Little life may I bring

You have swallowed them whole
No sweet, soft sounds
Only hellish cries that grow
From bloodthirsty hounds

And Gods, you have taken
Every little ******* thing
From us—the dead
who can no longer sing.