Pretty blonde girl.
She has eight years.
And a daddy dearest,
always running to tell her,
“The monsters under the bed don’t exist.”
So she believes him.

Pretty blonde girl.
She has sixteen years.
Daddy dearest is gone.
No one comes running to tell her,
“The monsters under the bed and inside you head don’t exist.”
So she believes them.

Pretty blonde girl.
She has seventeen years.
And seventeen voices in her head.
Monsters still under her bed.
Their voices tell her,
“You’re so out of place. You’re better off dead.’’
And she believes them.

Pretty blonde girl.
She has eighteen years.
And a lover dearest,
who has danced with the monsters as well.
He tells her,
“I still think you’re beautiful.”
And she tries to believe him.
But the monsters won’t let her.