She was just seventeen, pious and pretty with a deadly disease
And the weight of the world on a prosthetic shoulder
And by the summer of â96 her body was cracked like porcelin
Just like some Precious Moments collectable
In a hospital gown and a big bright golden halo
If there's any justice in heaven, then God won't let me in
He'll lock the gates and take my weekend pass away
With a sympathetic wave, they'll see me off, return my golden crown
While I am cursed to walk the earth for a millennia
I know I deserve worse but it terrifies me and I can't take it anymore