She is just a wooden doll, 
With her face painted in lies.
Dreaming of a fibrous necklace,
Holding her head up high.

She's scouting the door frame,
From a distance she is plotting.
Happy ending by her own hands,
Holding her head up high.

Creepy little voices want to guide her down,
Take the rope in her fingers, feel the itching of the twists...
Inhale the stench of humanity, asphyxiating all her worth.
Creepy little voices make her better; make her worse.


She places a chair beside the window,
Then she checks the mirror.
Vanity even with the planning of demise,
Holding her head up high.

She only wants to wake up there,
Breathing in only the stars.
Loops, lace, and pretty things,
Holding her head up high.

Creepy little voices want to guide her down,
Take the rope in her fingers, feel the itching of the twists...
Inhale the stench of humanity, asphyxiating all her worth.
Creepy little voices make her better; make her worse.