She needs attention, she craves it.
She drinks it up, its her fountain of youth.
She won't care who she hurts, or how she does it.
She shows herself, but in a light no one cares for.

As the attention slips from her, she grasps it with her strength.
Its her drug, its her only hope.
She doesn't know about caring, or love.
She doesn't know about helping, or happiness.
She only knows fake feelings, hatred.
She thinks she's right, but she's wrong.

You turn back, but that's when the knife is stabbed.
Your blood, your pain is her success.
Her life, why she's living.
She keeps going, letting you bleed.
It doesn't matter if you make it, all that matters,
is that she got her daily fulfillment of attention.