SHE RESTS HER HEAD
ALONG THE BED
MADE OF THORNS
AND SHATTERED GLASS
AND THEN SHE CUT
SO DEEP IT WONT SHUT
SHE KEEPS ON STARING
AS IT BLEEDS SO FAST
SHE HEARS EVERY SOUND
WHILE SHE'S HIDING, BEGGING TO BE FOUND
SO SOMEONE WILL SEE
HER MUTILATED ARMS
SHE TRIES TO PUT DOWN THE RAZOR
BUT SOMEHOW THE THOUGHT DOESN'T PHAZE HER
SHE'S SITTING THERE
IN THE CENTER OF HARM
THE ROOM BECOMES DARK
YOU CAN SEE EACH AND EVERY MARK
YOU CAN SEE THE PUDDLE OF BLOOD
FROM THE SPOT WHERE SHE FEEL
SHE LOOKS TO BE ASLEEP
BLESSED LORD HER SOUL TO KEEP
SHE REALLY DEAD IM SORRY
SHE'S A CONCRETE ANGEL
