Paint me a picture,
Paint it with my blade...

Sing a song of happiness,
A pocket full of blades...

We can make each other laugh,
Spend every minute making dreams...

Get out of my life,
I can deal with my own problems...

Dressed in black clothing,
With long sleeves covering my scared arms...

Dear Little Child.
Dear Little Child...

It's been a month,
Since i last made a mark...

I'm falling to pieces,
Because this sadness won't go away...

As the saddened summer dew falls from my cheeks,
The blade moves silently upon my wrist...

I have so much to tell you,
But it can never be said...

It's my fault he's yelling,
And my fault he's storming about...

Cut me with a cheap blade,
Cut me for every minute that fades...