She paints a pretty picture
but the story has a twist
her paintbrush was her razor
and her canvas was her wrist
she paints a pretty picture
in the color red
while using her sharp paintbrush
she ends up finally dead
her pretty picture is fading
quite slowly on her arm
the blood is not running through her
she can no longer do harm
she paints a pretty picture
but the story has a twist
her mind was her razor
and her heart was her wrist
