Through the blows I try to scream,
but there's no stopping him...

It seems that this world isn't what it seems.
The people who smile could be faking...

I scream for them to stop,
but they don't stop yelling at each other...

I hear the screams in my head,
but I don't care no more...

People are never themselves,
their always pretending to be someone else...

Through his hands he peeks,
watching her run away...

A girl of only five was locked away,
to be used for her fathers pleasure...

On this bed of roses,
lies a body full of pain...

Huddled in a corner crying,
listening to their yelling...

In this haunting forest,
there is a river...

With each blow a tear falls,
until there is no more tears to cry...

In my family portrait we're all smiling.
But what happens if that picture starts moving...