Her knuckles grew white.
As it flowed through her arm...

She carried it with her,
Everywhere she went...

Oh how the lies
Have weaved themselves...

Alone she sat;
Beneath a tree...

The turn was quick
But the truck...

She sat
On a stone...

No one heard the screams
Nobody ever did...

Girl,
This I know...

This machine;
Made of muscle...

No,
I will not bend under this wieght...

One Last Night
Is all I ask...

Just as my heart beats
It beats for you...