Silly little boy, why do you run out into the street?
Silly little girl, why do you cry out in defeat?
This silly little boy, he's fresh out of the womb,
Unwise of life and basking in his youth.
He plays with his toys and the boys on his street,
They always have games to play whenever they meet.
He's a snaggle-toothed bastard, but his mother is swell, she treats him well.
This silly little girl, she's a bastard as well,
She's fresh out of life, her soul she did sell.
She plays with her knives and her skin runs wet.
Her eyes are stained and her heart forever pained.
She's ready to leave, her mother never cared, her life was a misery shared.
By a strange twist of fate, these two did meet.
Together they came to fulfill the other's need.
This sad little girl wanted a way out,
It was a car she found to cure her bout.
This scared little boy, he wanted to be free,
Stuck, he saw the headlights, counting "1, 2, 3..."
He never got to four, the girl would see no more.
She pushed him out of the way.
On the street, her broken body did lay.
By the scared boy's shout,
The people did come out
To behold the remains,
a life suicide claims.
She was the sacrificial lamb, the martyr of the land.
And the boy grateful to the stranger who saved his hand.
But, alas, she was no hero,
She was a victim, she was no hero.
A victim to her own selfish demand.