Verse 1:
Oh dear child, what's making you so lonely,
why does your make-up mix with cry?
The sober October night when dear mother hurt your precious pride.

Does it hurt? The one who is your only
is nothing but cheat and lie?
The crimson roses turn to knives as down your arms they slide.

Verse 2:
Eyes so wet, so swollen, unresponsive
although your throat is always dry.
The cider's bitter-sweet aroma gets your small head high.

Chorus:
Little bitch, you're testing my sanity
attention-seeking is closing profanity
just to live is embodying vanity
you are worth something less than a nod.

Oh explain why all that comes by is shit?
Perhaps 'cuz you're words are full of it.
People laugh when they see that your wrists are slit.
Your are not beloved by even god.

2x Chorus:

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