[Artifice]

her window of opportunity, the sky turns grey
no more hideaway, she's comin' out... it's time to play
they desperately tried to keep her mind a daze
but this ray of light to her right helped her find a way
beginnin' her trek in a pink dress w/ a hood
most kids 'd be too skittish for this neck of the woods
trees rooted in fear... so see as you near
the creepiness keeps increasing the less that you look
ground made of carcasses covered in fallen leaves
muerte from the smallest shrubs to the tallest trees
no sorrow for the poor souls swallowed in dirt
for their bloodshed brings life to her body of work
victims fertilizin' her garden of death
smell sickening to the stomach, so hard to digest
like a fungus or a disease spreading thru veins
she raises annuals of anguish, perennials of pain
witness land grown by the hands of a daughter
her innocence luring you in like lambs to the slaughter
it's a fatal mistake to try and be nice
when she says
want to see my garden? you'll have the time of your life