Beneath your thick skin, there must have been a creature
Controlling you like a marionette robot.
Or else how could you have said those things?
Or else how could I have stopped your heart?
I did the autopsy with my scalpel
And found that, yes, my brand new theory was true.
And the creature was a nasty bugger
And she bit my arm clear right through,
But now I know that wasn't really you, Girl Number Two.
But now I know that wasn't really you.

"The death of Girl Number Two," read the first line,
Written by a fond paper columnist,
"Actually happened in the 20's
And since she's been inhabited by an oddly whimsical creature.
She was a marionette to its hand."
Full Stop. And then the whole story.
And everyone sighed when it ran.

But now I know that wasn't really you, Girl Number Two.
But now I know that wasn't really you.