Pretty little things
Let me clip your wings.
Hear your pain that sings
Pretty little things.
Run river red.
Red as hurt can be.
Run river red
Where no pretty things shall flee.
Sweet, sickly venom,
So pleasing to the taste.
Like your tender lies
That death does bring with haste.
Pretty litte things,
you'll never fly again.
Forget your pretty wings
Locked in their rusty chain.
