I see a painting of a skeleton
Desperately dying to be thin;
I never want to eat food again
For my hands are so frail and delicate,
Would you love me if I was blind
Or would you love me if I was thinner?
For my eating disorder
Is truly a work of art
Oh where is my existence
When it\'s constantly being buried alive?
And my feelings are obscure
To the snarling masses
And sometimes I think I am too frail
For my own shadow...
I am tempted to be fat
Like I was before,
But what\'s the point in pleasing the masses
When I am unhappy?
Oh skeleton, skeleton
Do you see me bleed?
For my cup is never full
I am simple as a flower, yet vicious as a dove;
Will my wings carry me in despair?
For my mind is heavy
And my body is so frail
I struggle with eating, yet I really want bread
The talent I have is a struggle,
Oh wither the words
That I write on the wall
And trigger the doves
That I set free--
No mind is normal of any circumstance
For I am a tortured artist
Dancing on my grave,
And I am extremely hungry for anything,
Anything that can benefit my woes
For the painting of the skeleton triggers me,
For I am triggered all of the time;
It hurts knowing
That I want to be thin,
And even thinner would be best
I hate this society I\'m living in
I want to die already--
For already is not soon enough
As the painting of a skeleton comes to life.