Whispered words screaming in my ears as I sleep. Disturbing the slumber of fairies dancing perhaps the silver I needed yes, I committed murder but what else could I do? Punk’s never been pretty, it would never allow me to… Now my face has puffed up eyes possessed by toxic tears scorching soggy cheeks I’ve never felt so pretty prettier than in the dress with black leather gloves embracing my wary hands holding the microphone of truth I wish you knew me I’ll accept the daggers graciously because I have to I’ll accept the daggers graciously because I want to bleed respectfully I ask you to know defiantly I am not ready to go my angels kissed your forehead tonight did you feel them? They want you to know me and so do I.