The portrait hanging on the wall
Self-portrait to meet the eyeball
About to bring my curtain call
Portrait, portrait, Please never fall!
Holding broken glass, silently
That's when my scars begin to burn violently
Far too young to grasp, what I see
My eyes confused about the stranger next to me
Look at them all so happy. Mother, Father, Baby...
All I can pry from you is an answer of maybe
The room begins to fill the depths of the Atlantic
She cannot help herself but to be so frantic
I simply cannot comprehend, why you scream at me
I'm only six years old in glee
Silently I stare perplexing at the broken glass
Understanding rage will never pass
What is left? Baby needs you... so forgive and forget
What you're left is baby and clammy cold sweat
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