She paints a pretty picture but the story has a twist, Her paint brush is a razor and her canvas is her wrist.
She paints her pretty picture with a colour that's blood red, while using the sharp paint brush she ends up,finally, dead.
Her pretty picture's fading, quite slowly on her arm, Her blood's not racing through her, she can no longer do harm.
She painted a pretty picture, but the story had a twist, You see, her friend was a razor-
And her HEART was her wrist.
