Beneath your thick skin, there must have been a creature 
Controlling you like a marionette robot. 
Or else how could you have said those things? 
Or else how could I have stopped your heart? 
I did the autopsy with my scalpel 
And found that, yes, my brand new theory was true. 
And the creature was a nasty bugger 
And she bit my arm clear right through, 
But now I know that wasn't really you, Girl Number Two. 
But now I know that wasn't really you.
"The death of Girl Number Two," read the first line, 
Written by a fond paper columnist, 
"actually happened in the 20's 
And since she's been inhabited by an oddly whimsical creature. 
She was a marionette to its hand." 
Full Stop. And then the whole story. 
And everyone sighed when it ran.
But now I know that wasn't really you, Girl Number Two. 
But now I know that wasn't really you.