Hang that rope the right way you should,
Get the stool,
Put on your nicest dress,
Don't let a tear dropp from you untouched face.
Put on your new black Mary Jane's,
The ones daddy bought for you.
Now don't get them dirty,
Or you'll get sculled again.
Gone too far,
Can't go back.
Too many scares,
That can tell you these stories that can scary you,
Into thinking that she is lying,
Just to hide the truth.
It's almost time to go,
But before you go aren't you going to say your good-bye?
It would be awfully nice for you to at lest write them a letter,
Even though they really wouldn't care.
As mommy and daddy lay silently in their nice warm bed,
She's in the basement with the rope and stool.
Thinking this is the right thing to do,
But it's not she's only 10,
Still a baby.
The grand master clock stuck twelve,
She knew it was time,
She got up upon the big wooden stool,
Grabbed the rope and pulled it around her neck,
One tug to make sure it was tight.
Kicked the stool back,
She let out a little screech,
But not loud enough for anyone to hear,
As she hung above the floor.
All her worries just washed away,
Her eyes rolled bad into her head,
Legs dangling in the air