If you feel like I am your daughter,
then why do you continue the word slaughter?
You shout so angry words at my ear,
at those moments I wish I couldn't hear

But the slaughter is as present as myself,
not as usual, an unsensitive shell
A shell that doesn't let anyone know how I feel,
I'm a person who seems to be made out of steel

I'm tired of holding these feelings inside
Tired of being a harmageddon bride
I just want you to know who I am,
I'm on my way to the holy land

And I do feel the tears running through my veins
faster and faster, until they make me insane
I start to cry inside of my head
but on the outside, you don't see I'm dead.