Red, Red, Red

She's wearing red

Red lipstick, red dress

She's asking what's in your head

I answer her question with a question

am i better off dead

Yes is what she said

You're misread, you're mislead

You're only hanging by a thread

So take the pills and let the suffer end

A knock on the door followed by my mother's head

Asking are you ready yet

I answer just one minute and I'll be set

As she closed the door behind

I look back at the reflection in the mirror

Red lipstick, red dress

With a wicked smile she whispers you're already dead.