she paints a pretty picture
but this story has a twist
you see… her paintbrush is a razor
and her canvas is her wrist
she paint’s a pretty picture
in a color that’s blood red
while using her sharp paintbrush
she ends up finally dead
her pretty pictures fading
quite slowly on her arm
the blood is not racing through her
she can no longer do any harm
she painted her pretty picture
but her picture had a twist
her mind was the razor
and her heart was just her wrist
