Everyday of my life,
I wish I would have used the knife,
To take me from this living Hell.
All my secrets I'll never tell.
All day I sit and all I do,
Is sit, and moan, and cry "Boo hoo."
I sit, I moan, I wail, I cry.
I wish someday that I will die.
But in my heart its pure as gold,
The secret truth I've left untold.
Embroideried in gold upon my heart,
There lies a rose. No knife or dart.