PewDiePieWolf

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, In a colour that's blood red, Ile using her sharp paint brush, She's finally dead, Her pretty picture fading, Quiet slowly on her arm, The blood is 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 her razor, And her heart was her wrist.

PewDiePieWolf

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, In a colour that's blood red, Ile using her sharp paint brush, She's finally dead, Her pretty picture fading, Quiet slowly on her arm, The blood is 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 her razor, And her heart was her wrist.