Mannequin.

Her face, like ice. I could see every crack in her melting physique. Some illness painting her pretty so she'd never know. Frail body structure, bones ramming the oxygen in awkward angles.
Her eyes, like tombstones. I could see every crack in her fading story. Some thousand bodies hanging in the basment, left to drip, drip, drip. She tried to tell me there was only her.
I tried to get her to kneel down, tried to get her to suffocate in my hands, tried to feed her a little more of the porcupine tree so she'd submit.
Her face, so hollow, as she glared up at me, eleven fourty seven, light and dark, making shadows play off her empty flesh.
A strange sound, every time she tramples past, a rip,a tear somewhere inside, selling her soul, hocking her hole.
She tramples past with her army of whores, a brush of her soft, silken hand against your face bringing you diseases.
And as time goes by, wasting moments to the watching of a clock, revenge is ever near.
Every little detail becomes an entire fucking galaxy.
Music playing, sex songs, because she's filthy, so filthy. Red lips, red hair, pale skin, green eyes. She never looked so good, and I've never wanted her more.
Take your mannequin and fuck her furiously, cut her up, fill her up, she'll cry for more.
She knows now, time to die, time to die, time kills us all. We are all so fucked. Fuck her furiously. Cut her up, fill her up, she'll beg for more.
Little bitch, bleeding on the the bathroom floor, fucking whore. You've gone and done this to yourself again, are you even capable of standing up?
I tried to hold her wounds together but she tore at her flesh and begged me for more.
Insert the pick behind her lids, reduce her to all she is, mannequin.
Her face, like ice. I could see every crack in her melting physique. Some illness painting her prettty so she'd never know.