A young little girl,
Lived in this world,
Holding a knife in her hand,
One little slice,
Then the blood from her knife,
Stained the lovely beach sand,
A boy walked past,
With his identity masked,
Leaving her dying alone,
She cried out for help,
But nobody heard her yelp,
Leaving her sobbing for home,
Now this little girl,
Who lived in this world,
Holding some nice white roses,
Lies in a bed,
Made for the dead,
Leaving her parents hopeless.
