μπακ του μπλακ

                                                                                             

She paint's a pretty picture 

But the story has a twist

Her paintbrush is her razor

And her canvass is her wrist

She paints a pretty picture

In a colour thats blood red

While using her sharp paintbrush

She ends up finally dead

Her pretty pictures fading

Quite slowly on her arm

The blood is not racing through her

She no longer do harm

She painted a pretty picture

But this picure has a twist

You see her mind is her razor

And her heart was her wrist