i look at my image, there in the mirror
and i cant help but question, 'why am i here?'
to face down the demons of neglected hope
and go on day by day finding new ways to cope
to spread out my knowlege of theory and death
to put all you images of lost souls to rest
to give your hopeless world a new faith to belive
to put love in your hearts that never will leave
no this is not me, no i am no saint
im the girl with the colors of hatred to paint
the trouble maker who sits in the back of the room
the one who's waring all black, and accepts that we're doomed
the girl with the face that youve never seen
who goes to the graveyards where youve never been
and writes on the walls in the back of the class
'the devils come home, you can all kiss my ass'
the one who pops pills when no ones around
and cuts just to hear the red drops hit the ground
the one who stays out all night, but hides all day
shes one of those kids that never wanted to play
the girl who broke all her toys, riped the heads off her dolls
cuz she liked the way that it looked, to see the limp bodys fall
the girl with the body, that every pervert wants
the girl with the soul, that every spirit haunts
the kind of girl who has goals, the girl who has dreams
but never get her wishes, or so it would seem
the kind of girl thats alone, and will never find love
who refuses to pray to your lord up above
the girl who has nothing in life, but enjoys what shes got
the girl no one has loved, and that you all forgot
the girl whos lost it all once and will never return
the one laying there dying but still cannot learn
the girl who you left alone, the girl you left behind
the girl searching for something, shes never to find
the girl that you 'love' but you secretly hate
the on that you lie to, and love to complicate
so i stand infront of the mirror wirh these thoughts in my head
and it seems, to the world, i am better off dead
 
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