|
At the doorstep, it hung vertical |
|
No one noticed |
|
Cold like icicles |
|
Then a tall man cut down the string and set it free |
|
He cut another down and set it free |
|
He cut another down |
|
He cut so hard, he screamed |
|
In the closet picking clothes for me |
|
Nothing pink, though |
|
It won't fit the theme |
|
Then a pale man looked sad and had them close my eyes |
|
He cut another down, and it was me |
|
He cut another down |
|
Hunger, it beats you to the line |
|
Its teeth are chattering |
|
That little beat skips out of time |
|
So simple and cold |
|
He cut another down, and it was me |
|
He cut another down |