Falling to pieces

 It's in old Transalvania that my story takes place.

About a young girl with a horrible face.

With ears that are torn and a nose that is crooked,

Her teeth, they're not real, they're kept in a bucket.

For Sally was made by a mad old professor,

From bits of old bodies he kept in a dresser.

A salesman once called but then never again.

His fingers, now yours, still clutching his pen.

Your legs once belonged to an old German Shepherd,

Not the dog, but the man. Didn't put up much effort.

And so there you sit in a squalled old room,

With thoughts in your head thinking, "What is that tune?"

For was a DJ called Stu who gave you his brain.

The rest of his body got washed down the drain.

You sit there and pick at the stitches that hold you,

Nothing better to do since you're under a curfew.

First a leg then an arm get thrown in the fire,

Then your lower intestines you no longer desire.

And after a while when there isn't much left,

Just a head and a torso still in your old vest.

And so comes the end of a young girl called Sally,

Whose last few remains were found in an alley.