No more faith
And no more smiles
In the snow
To walk a mile
Falling frozen
Get back up
It's 'bout your will
And not your luck

I'm staring at a midnight sky
My only friend, the moon
I wish on every star I find
"Please, daddy, come home soon."

Glass, poison, overdose
Gun to head or knife to throat
Blade to wrist or fall from high
You pick one: how will I die?

You must be a disease because I need medication for the way my heart beats faster when you're around.

And at the strike of twelve she turns back to rags and is just thankful that she knows how the story ends.

Now I lay me down for good.
I'll die just like I know I should:
with broken heart and weary eyes.
The tears were never worth the fight.