<p>The little voices ate her brain</p>
<pre><code> She won't be coming in today
Her eyes are glass, her hand insane
Her mind is filled with damp decay
</code></pre>
<p>Happy ghosts from days of yore </p>
<p>Watch as her lips fill up with goo</p>
<p>She won't be here to smile anymore</p>
<p>Or sing a song to make us blue</p>
<pre><code> Instead she hums a slinky tune
It really rocks the sockets dry
She won't be coming in today
Though you may see her, by and by
</code></pre>
<p>The puppet-man from puppet-land </p>
<p>Is twisting twine around his fist</p>
<p>He grounds the spine to bits of sand</p>
<p>He's here to break the wooden wrist </p>
<pre><code> She won't be coming in today
Playtime's over; Lights are out
Darkness settles like a lover
Touching places all about
</code></pre>
<p>She won't be coming in today.</p>
<p>The children weep and then forget</p>
<p>Dust will kill, and paint will fade</p>
<p>And childhood dreams will find regret</p>
<pre><code> In some forgotten twisty corner
In some grimy, shackled room
Something creeps upon her shoulder
Around her ear and in the gloom
</code></pre>
<p>She won't be coming in today</p>
<p>Or ever again, if truth be told </p>
<p>Her joints have broken, her muscles failed,</p>
<p>Her shadow's lengthened and grown cold.</p>