No, not her smile,

No not her laugh,

But the monster thats needs the last relapse.

The morning comes before thinking about the hell life creates,

Waking up and dreading the life that she became to hate,

Can she can be saved by god?

Or by any faith?

Or maybe theres no hope with the style she makes...

She goes to the bathroom and takes out the habit she wanted to end,

Come on sweetheart do it again,

Come on sweetie,

Pills are your friend.

Take this extra dose,

And she'll fall asleep,

So she can kill herself again and again in her dreams,

And get use to the darkness to be her life theme.

Maybe the devil is nice?

And the angels are mean?

Maybe they can explain why she starts to feign...

Her body sees the cloud,

She starts to lean...

No need for rehab,

Her soul is clean.