This Sick Serpentine Psycho
The label of "bitch" branded to her forehead
I cannot trust her with a single thing
I go for something, try to make it better
There she is again, tearing it all down
She likes to have fun, play those "games"
Worst is when she takes her sweet time
Letting me slip closer and closer to something great
Then she waltzes in to take it all away
I may think I can hold her back, shew her out
At times I think it even works, saying goodbye
But no, this psycho waits for even the smallest crack
In the window of my ever slipping brain
Rearing her head like a Michael, who just will not die
Apart of me, inside of me, never going away
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