Statues sit, in silver-velvet armchairs

Still as death with complexions just like glass

In a silken dress a child stands in the corridor

In a house filled with gold, marble, and brass

Little child wades through a sea of cardboard cutouts

Porcelain dolls wait at a table for their tea to be poured

As she floats towards them, she doesn't make a sound

A dinner party set up beneath a thousand hanging swords

Cover the walls in baby blue paint

You're tired of hiding the pain away

Tired of living in this broken fairytail place

Lock the door and close the shutters

The house is on fire grab your daughters

While you let every silken curtain burn away

And you let every crimson memory fade to gray