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She was holding a gun in her hand
Thinking about the life she had
No one was able to understand
Why she was always so sad...
Black tears were falling down
She was about to die
Almost about to hit the ground
She just wanted to fly...
She did not choose this road
Someone else was in control
But until she wasn't told
She believed it was her soul...
She was like a puppet
Hanging on black strings
She was a puppet
But without the wings...
No one could have helped her
It was simply too late
A pretty doll forever...
Being a puppet was her fate...
She couldn't live on her own
She needed to be told what to be
But she wanted to go home
She wanted to brake free...
So she put the gun to her head
And cried her last tear
Very soon she will be dead
Death was always near...
She was like a puppet
Frozen as ice inside
She was a puppet
Before her suicide...
