I can´t stop thinking about cutting myself up
Visual bruises can be covered with make-up
But down to the core I´m all bruises
My little whore gives this excuses.
How can this be rationalized
Your brain has programed all of your lies
What do you tell yourself about our situation
How can you look at yourself without having some sort of revelation.

How do you live with yourself,
How could you possibly hurt someone like myself?
The saddest part though is I would take you back.
You´ve turned me into some spineless hypochondriac
Now I tend to every last emotion
I´m just so caught up in this I cannot grasp its hazed proportions.

Allrigh now I´ll be fair, I´ll just pull you by the hair, I´ll just kick you from time to time, and then I´ll love you in the mean time.
It will be just like before... I´ll be your girl, you´ll be my whore.

I am not an angry child.
I don´t run hot nor mild.
But for some reason when it comes to you
I smile at the thought of hitting you,
I smile at the thought of watching you die
I strive off the image of making you cry,
I feed of the feeling of having you need
I lick the illusion of watching you bleed...