Is It Progression If a Cannibal Uses a Fork?

Listen up, sweetie, we all know
That you're a beautiful girl in this horrible world
In this suggestion of horror, the portraits on the walls
Look at their eyes, they always seem to follow

Look at their eyes, they always seem to follow me

Out of tune this tale of terror
The solemn tolling of the funeral bells
I want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours
Where every day's a Bone Palace Ballet

Biting the flesh from your finger
You know I just can't help myself
I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard
May this light never see morning, as finally one will not

Maybe you're the one that's overrated
Shriek and scream, much too horrified to speak

Out of tune this tale of terror
The solemn tolling of the funeral bells
I want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours
Where every day's a Bone Palace Ballet
Every day, [Incomprehensible]

This morning I woke up, I rubbed my eyes
And I took a quick glance around the room
And saw what happened here last night

There was blood on the walls
And the sheets smelled like sweat and sex
We have narrowed it down to the butcher knife
And the mockingbird with the blood

Out of tune this tale of terror
The solemn tolling of the funeral bells
I want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours
Where every day's a Bone Palace Ballet