Dead Confederate Tortured-artist Saint
She's a cold bitch in honest company
Cut you with lies and lead you on
She carries knives instead of necklaces
Her eyes gleam at the spire you're on
She'd steal the stone that's on your grave
She's no one's tortured artist saint
Just turn your back and give her an easy way
To take what you need and give what you don't
Just give some time and know you might conquer this
Waste of a life to call your own
