She Paints A Pretty Picture,
But Her Story ls A Twist,
Her Paint Brush ls A Razor
And Her Canvas ln Her Wrist,
She Paints Her Pretty Picture,
In A Color That's Blood Red
While Using Her Sharp Paint Brush
She Ends Up Finally Dead
Her Pretty Pictures Fading
Quite Slowly On Her Arm
The Blood ls Not Racing Through Her
She Can No Longer Do Harm
She Painted Her Pretty Picture
But Her Picture Had A Twist
You See Her Mind Was A Razor
And Her Heart Was Her Wrist.
