In her sunshine blouse,
She prefers to keep the desperate men out,
And they stay far away,
And then she’ll feel ok,
Cause the smile on her face is poison.

In her rotary chair,
She’s spinning too fast as it spits out her hair,
And she’s well known,
For her tendencies grown, as the number on the scales shivers.
And we fight like the crows,
Shoulders, elbows, are covered in blows,
From the farm girls last perge,
Between selling me your love all passing,
Well I fell with no pain

But it hurt just the same.
Annabelle’s in the rain,
Reading those dreams, for the number or name,
Well she comes across like an animal lost,
But her cage is the cleanest around.
And her parents hold her down in the night,
Before closing her eyes, she said everything’s fine.
When she next arrives, with her conscience divine,
And a smile on her face artificial.
Yes the smile on your face artificial.

Well I search through her paths,
Running family since birth,
And I feel like a one,
Bury body in dirt.
On my birthday I scream,
Every day’s a bad dream,
Or a story to sell,
Stop reading me… annabelle.