It's funny, isn't it? How things can change
Like how one minute she can be smiling,
the next, she forgets, and it seems so strange
because she doesn't remember dialing
The phone, who she is, or who you are
She's captive in her own reality
She is sinking into oppressive tar
And it block, it blocks her mortality
Her eyes glaze like cobwebs found a home there
Anything she receives comes from plastic
Or her mother's shaking hands as she bares
A life without her dear little spastic
Girl that used to shine with a brilliant light
snuffed, heading gently into that good night