she dreams of a heart of smoke 

and believed itd still be there when she awoke

and when the regret filler her sight

she crased and set fire to the night

and her hair was long when she waved good bye

but her eyes rolled back and they all knew why

and a door wide open and a window closed

and a dream no one had ever supposed

and her hair was short when he kissed her softly

and her elegance proved just too cotsly 

and where do we now draw the line

between drunk and valentine

her canvases have been smashed through

the sheets on her bed are ruined too

the water from her shower head

now forever runs in red

and down the drain she watched it flow

like rivers to the ocean so

vast she wondered just how much

shed have to work to keep in touch

and her hair was in her face when she

fixed herself a cup of tea

and tucked her body into bed

with chemicals killing her head

and when she swollows she still tastes 

blood and bile and tooth paste

and when she eats her hands still break

and when she sleeps she stays awake

and when she feels bad for herself

her skins seems to lie on a shelf

a burial ground for sobs and sighs

and lengthened six month old goodbys 

so when you look for any pulse

youll touch her neck upon impulse 

and when her skin feels cold and hollow

she wil say youre hers to follow

cut her open, you will see

shes only what you wanted her to be