She wore a red,tight dress
They said,she care less
But they were wrong
She's in a big mess
She partied all night
Flirt with some hot guys
Drink with all her might
And danced with the swaying lights
When she went home
She found out she's all alone
She picked up her phone
And found out she's alone
Four o'clock in the morning
There she is,crying
A canvass of sorrow she's painting
Shows her wrists,bleeding
At four o'clock in the morning
There she is mourning,
For a sad painting,
For her,dying
Four o'clock knows her secret
If anyone will know
If somebody would see
They won't ever forget
For the canvass of sorrow
Isn't something to know,to show
For her bleeding and scarred wrists
In the painting,is the twist
