Little miss perfection messed up again,
Yet, no one knows the pain she's in...

I don't know why I let you
But you keep on using me...

She lays there in the middle of the dusty church...
Her hair is tossed all over her delicate face, it...

My wounded cries reach the ears of the damned,
My struggles are all in vain...

We started out by being friends
we spoke to each other everyday...

She dropped to her knees
At the very thought...

The blood rolling down my arms
is proof of what you've done...

Blood spills from her wrists
Like a can of red paint...

A broken smile
And bloody wrists...

I cried over you so many times
I sliced away the pain...

Bloody floor
Crying eyes...

They all stand around her gravestone
Tears pouring from their eyes...