One Thousand Pallid Deaths

Whatever the woman in black does

Her hands are covered by silk gloves

She's a lady that looks elegant'n stylish

No one knows that she lives in misery

Sometimes when she's alone in her apartment

Deep in her soul she experiences her inner pain

It starts with running up'n down the floor

Suddenly it stops

She then cowers in a cramped position

And begins gnawing on her fingernails

Then continues by cutting up her already maimed

And stunted hands with a razor-blade

She pounds her tortured bloody fists on the floor

Unable to feel the same pain we would

At the end she cries out for all she's worth

Making her soar to her seventh day

Indifferent she goes to bed or watches tv

Not knowing that in reality

She shares that misery with many others

It repeats

Year for year

Month for month

Day for day

Hour for hour

When she was a child

Her parents gave no love

Only when she was sick

Everybody took care of her

And now she's thirty

It's still deep in her mind

It returns again - n - again

And it repeats

Year for year

Month for month

Day for day

Hour for hour

When she had problems as a teenager

Her parents gave no help

But when she had an accident

All took care of her

And now she's forty

It's still deep in her mind

She's controlled by muchhausen - syndrom

Incurable and damned to death