In my family portrait we're all smiling.
But what happens if that picture starts moving...

Through the blows I try to scream,
but there's no stopping him...

It seems that this world isn't what it seems.
The people who smile could be faking...

I scream for them to stop,
but they don't stop yelling at each other...

I hear the screams in my head,
but I don't care no more...

People are never themselves,
their always pretending to be someone else...

Through his hands he peeks,
watching her run away...

The clock strikes twelve,
strange things are happening in the dark...

A girl of only five was locked away,
to be used for her fathers pleasure...

On this bed of roses,
lies a body full of pain...

In this haunting forest,
there is a river...

With each blow a tear falls,
until there is no more tears to cry...