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life was never grand She knew of suffering and pain because she felt them often and she helped many without gain hoping to make her memories soften She smiled brightly at all her friends so they wouldn't dig to deep she didn't want them to see her ends didn't want to make them weep She and she but took her razors late one night cut into her thigh knew it wasn't a pretty sight she didn't want to cry
In the end she stopped that play and now she carries more scars to keep her company when she doesn't pay for her drinks in all the bars You one she And see she moved on to a different game that's tolls weren't quite so glaring moved onto bodily shame now they call her daring
Her friends they think she's innocent so full of life and verve but really her emotions are spent and she's lost most of her nerve She called for help in silence But no one answered the plea And then she some how sensed that she could never really flee So she stood up straight and stepped toward her end she gave a finger to fate and looked at her friends They were in a cold She acted and never She she She and her reasons for living and cruel world sweet and caring were insults hurled
hated ignorance and lies fought for all to be free comforted when people cried helped to make the blind see
And people yelled and called her saint
but she wasn't all that grand She hated her life, and that's why I paint So you all will understand (Damia - "written by Stevie Williams")