The sound of tears falling down her cheecks,
The sound she meets with sleep.
The sound she fears, yet greets,
You might wonder why, but these are the sounds of her lullaby.

The sound of sobs coming from somwhere deep inside.
Explain to me why, you’re not there when she cries,
Don’t tell me you care when you’re watching her die.
The fear that’s in her eyes, you must not see because you’re blind. I won’t let her say good-bye, it hurts me that you question why.
These are the sounds of her lullaby.

The sound of her broken heart, that is somehow still beating,
The sound of her in anguish, silently screaming.
She walks slowly with her head hanging down, her shoulders are slouched, underneath the burden of all her pain.
She calls out your name, but you don’t listen, not b/c you can’t hear, b/c you choose not to.
So, she takes a razor and makes two slits upon her wrists.
She feels the blood run colder as it drips down her sleeves and up her shoulders, as she hangs upside down on her bed…