With a whimsical view on this life
A faith born not of truth,
but strife
Taken out on oneself
With naught but a
knife
Born in crimson,
Dead in the world
What a day to die,
I'm not the same girl
What this life has created,
Is going to hell
Am I really going
After death I
might just
tell
I used to be,
so beautifully carefree
Now with my faith,
Kept apart with
my misery
Has made me a bit cynical,
More that little ironic
Maybe I'm just dismal,
Can't escape it
I'm chronic
Oh great
A hate born from fate
Just a little longer wait
Now look at that
A whimsical female
Within a whimson world
I'm a crimson girl.