Here is my grains for blending voicesnBigs among his mind is flyingnAll of this was quite acceptednNow their skin they were affectednnJust on eleven and now she's going on twelvenNo one can seennShe must be one in hundred millionsnA mind so totally torned and wreckfulnWhat have you done with this poor girlnYou made her believe that nothing's sacrednA conscience is lostnnVoices tell me I am in neednSee the people in pain and to bleednFor nigh a trice they never saynA knife can kill and now she is deadnnJust on eleven and now she's going on twelvenNo one can seennShe must be one in hundred millionsnA mind so totally torned and wreckfulnWhat have you done with this poor girlnYou made her believe that nothing's sacrednA conscience is lost