Look what you've done,
All proud of yourself.
But don't be.
For all you know,
Her home and heart could be empty.
You've emptied her out
And skinned her alive
But you're all she sees
When she closes her eyes

She's not proud of herself
Or the person you both have become.
You say you love her
And she plays back
The same beat of the drum.
She does love you,
But the love is dead.
For the love only comes
From the loving end.


She cries and she cuts
But for you she gives love.
She does what she's told
only most of the time.
But when it's all over,
Maybe you'll realize your crime.