| Failed coercion
|
| Leads to intrusion
|
| And the blood forever runs
|
| In her hair
|
| Into her hands
|
| Between her legs
|
| Where his mind lies
|
| Power drives him on
|
| To murder innocence
|
| On the rack of his devices
|
| Vices and designs
|
| She will never scrub the stains
|
| From her arms from her neck
|
| From her legs
|
| The dirt will remain
|
| As a reminder of his hateful face
|
| Reach in
|
| Rip apart the inner fibres of her soul
|
| Boy, you’ll never know how it feels
|
| To fear the shame
|
| Feel free to walk down
|
| Any dark street without fear
|
| Without shame no one is
|
| Gonna touch you
|
| And you don’t need protection
|
| She shouldn’t need protection
|
| And you can sit there
|
| With that stupid smile on your face
|
| And try to convince me that you care
|
| Defined by your power, defined by her body
|
| The innocence she feels everybody else contains
|
| It’s lost, it’s gone
|
| But I guess it doesn’t matter anyway
|
| Reach in, rip apart the inner fibres of her soul
|
| And you can sit there
|
| With that stupid smile on your face
|
| And try to convince me that you care
|
| Defined by your power
|
| Defined, redefined
|
| Fucked, tortured and discarded
|
| Fucked, tortured and discarded
|
| Fucked, tortured and discarded
|
| And if he ever cares
|
| Maybe he will feel ashamed
|
| For everything he’s stolen
|
| For all the trust she gave
|
| Possessed and broken, she cries
|
| But it’s not our problem
|
| Pull down your goddamn blinds
|
| He will never think he’s wrong
|
| She will never feel quite right
|
| He will never think he’s wrong
|
| She will never feel quite right
|
| You will never think he’s wrong
|
| You will never think he’s wrong
|
| You will never think you’re wrong
|
| She will never feel quite right |