That plate aint looking great today, she’s shaving pounds with razor blades,
and if the forks don’t start the beefin’ I think she might waste away.
That’s okay, or so she says, her skin and bones resemble legs,
When your brains are underfed your body cannot make the bed.
What’s been said? Who’s to say that this isn't empty fitness?
When she leaves the house it’s safe to say she’s grocery listless.
It’s just like Christmas without the Christian guilt,
'cause when they nailed her to this cross they let her have a quilt
to warm her skin, and some stilts to hold her up for public viewin’.
She used to binge and purge, now she resists the urge to start spewin’.
Never chewin’, who’s got time to eat when you could gaze in freezers?
Joker’s call it vanity, she’s pulling body hairs with tweezers.
Speakers cover sheets with tears, fear’s becoming heaven sent.
When she’s stepping on that scale the numbers are irrelevant.
She wants to disappear, so watch her shrink in volume and in size.
Sustenance became despised by this lass throwing goodbyes.

So stone the hunger with your brain,
Starve yourself to feel the pain.
No mother’s milk it's time to wane.
Promise you won’t die in vain?
People laugh like a cliché,
They love to watch you waste away.
They love to ask how much you weigh,
And how did your vomit taste today?
Stone the hunger with your brain,
Starve yourself to feel the pain.
No mother’s milk it's time to wane.
Promise you won’t die in vain?
When a little girl gets led astray,
These bastards have a field day.
Use her skin as an ashtray,
Until the wind blows her away.

Her scarred knuckles shuffle under muffled chuckles
These kiddies like to group in huddles ‘fore they start the scuffle.
It’s like they have to ruffle every fucking feather in the pillow,
and squeeze the last tears out of this sick and weeping willow.
If you let her chill though, it doesn't seem to get much better.
I see this statue getting weathered, bundled in a coat and sweater.
Watch your letters, she’s lacking in social tolerance,
she’ll start the hollering; am I making any fucking sense?
Lactose intolerant, or so she says, but I don’t buy it.
19 years old and 90 pounds saying she needs to diet.
If you keep quiet you can the crickets chirping, hiding vermin;
straight A's, actin’ like a virgin just to hide her perfect burden.
The tears are burning so she hides them in her ventricles,
Carving careful words in notebooks till she makes her pencil dull.
So before you judge this upset mess, please don’t forget.
This scene ends in a city of ripped fishnets and broken flesh.