Mr.Brightside
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2008
- Messages
- 448
- Reaction score
- 0
Hey, I named something.
Well, I think it's okay.
It's one of those angry songs, but the music's happy.
You could call it triumphant, although there were no winners.
So maybe acceptance of truth.
But that's a mouthful.
She's a pretty doll, but her dresses are torn,
She's used, yes, but her hand's aren't worn,
What's a girl to do?
Yellow tangled hair matches yellow tangled sheets,
Lips so red that she doesn't have to speak,
This one's out to you!
She's got pretty bullet holes for eyes,
But the angel never cries,
Not when she's got the boys home,
But she gets so lost in the dark,
But it's always been dark,
She hates being this alone.
She's got a pretty face and she says she's something more,
She claims not to be others' wall decore,
Or so she says,
She's pretty as long as she's quiet in the background,
But she never seems to be the one to stay around,
Honey, this is the end.
Red lips that are red with blood,
But she's not a vampire, she's just not had enough attention for so long,
And she can't stand it when we don't look at her,
She cut her own lips crimson,
But she still hasn't been christened,
Except as a fade out, if I may.
She's got pretty bullet holes for eyes,
But the angel never cries,
Not when she's got the boys home,
But she gets so lost in the dark,
But it's always been dark,
She hates being so alone.
She's been forgotten in just one year,
Not as if we all haven't,
Her life will not be read,
She's in the kind of magazines only leafed,
She licks her own blood from the back of her now-yellow teeth,
She's quietly playing dead.
"Lost, but never, ever forgotten."
She pictured the other dolls say,
Her own fantasies a wild blur,
But the other girls like her were following suit,
Really alive but leaving a corpse that's finally mute,
It's more merciful not to let her know we've forgotten her.
Following whatever would make them call her pretty,
She's pretty, just not important,
She doesn't know they forgot,
Dying would be her last curtain call,
Were she important at all,
As she quietly, slowly rots.
She probably still has a beating heart,
Bullet-hole eyes like painted art,
Never hanged, only hung.
She doesn't know she's just something else one someone's wall,
A pretty but dusty hollow porcelain doll,
She's waited too long to die young.
"Lost, but never, ever forgotten."
She pictured the stars say,
Her own fantasies a wild blur.
But the other girls like her were following suit,
Quietly alive but leaving a corpse that's already mute,
It's more merciful not to let her know we've forgotten her.
Well, I think it's okay.
It's one of those angry songs, but the music's happy.
You could call it triumphant, although there were no winners.
So maybe acceptance of truth.
But that's a mouthful.
She's a pretty doll, but her dresses are torn,
She's used, yes, but her hand's aren't worn,
What's a girl to do?
Yellow tangled hair matches yellow tangled sheets,
Lips so red that she doesn't have to speak,
This one's out to you!
She's got pretty bullet holes for eyes,
But the angel never cries,
Not when she's got the boys home,
But she gets so lost in the dark,
But it's always been dark,
She hates being this alone.
She's got a pretty face and she says she's something more,
She claims not to be others' wall decore,
Or so she says,
She's pretty as long as she's quiet in the background,
But she never seems to be the one to stay around,
Honey, this is the end.
Red lips that are red with blood,
But she's not a vampire, she's just not had enough attention for so long,
And she can't stand it when we don't look at her,
She cut her own lips crimson,
But she still hasn't been christened,
Except as a fade out, if I may.
She's got pretty bullet holes for eyes,
But the angel never cries,
Not when she's got the boys home,
But she gets so lost in the dark,
But it's always been dark,
She hates being so alone.
She's been forgotten in just one year,
Not as if we all haven't,
Her life will not be read,
She's in the kind of magazines only leafed,
She licks her own blood from the back of her now-yellow teeth,
She's quietly playing dead.
"Lost, but never, ever forgotten."
She pictured the other dolls say,
Her own fantasies a wild blur,
But the other girls like her were following suit,
Really alive but leaving a corpse that's finally mute,
It's more merciful not to let her know we've forgotten her.
Following whatever would make them call her pretty,
She's pretty, just not important,
She doesn't know they forgot,
Dying would be her last curtain call,
Were she important at all,
As she quietly, slowly rots.
She probably still has a beating heart,
Bullet-hole eyes like painted art,
Never hanged, only hung.
She doesn't know she's just something else one someone's wall,
A pretty but dusty hollow porcelain doll,
She's waited too long to die young.
"Lost, but never, ever forgotten."
She pictured the stars say,
Her own fantasies a wild blur.
But the other girls like her were following suit,
Quietly alive but leaving a corpse that's already mute,
It's more merciful not to let her know we've forgotten her.
