The girl lives in a beautiful dollhouse made of stone, I wrote one time in my diary when I was young, my handwriting shaky but sure. But underneath her shining plastic smile, there are only screams.
The mother sings a hungry songOf blood and cracking teethShe dances in the dark belowwants to pull us underneathHer claws, they rise, they sway in danceto the melody of screamsHer lullaby will never e...
The girl lives in a beautiful dollhouse made of stone', I wrote one time in my dairy when I was young, my handwriting shaky but sure. 'But beneath her shining plastic smile, there are only screams'.
