I bite the hand that feeds me, so that maybe it’ll let me starve.

And shrink into the perfect woman, and fit in Cinderella’s shoe,

So that to my prince I’ll play a victim that no one ever knew.

I cut the love that binds me, so that it bleeds on my white dress.

I wear magenta to the ball, and I think I look the best.

Innocence denies me the happiness of rest