A few drops of cyanide

My name is Blakely, I was born in a small farm in Boston.  
My address isn't included.  
My life is nothing short of a crime.  
My room nothing short of a cell.  
My life is just in hell.  
A photo of her is all I have left.  
Since all memories, are just
nightmares in the form of roses.  
And I must find the way.
And I guess you can say, that's why I painted a door on my wall.  
Yes, that is why I painted a blood door  on my wall.
And that's why my soul decided to fall.
When the candy man opened it.  
I knew he let me in his house.  
With his stitched up face, I knew his problems were long gone.
When he led me to a candy bar.  
With a few cracked peppermints on the floor.  
But I do think... That those peppermints are in the shape of skulls.
With the sickly pink perfume filling the air.
Everything is gone,
Everything is wrong.
And that's why I loved him when he handed me a shot of root beer.  
And the drink ran cold.  
And the drink fell bitter.  
But there's no love in this bottle.  
There's no life in this bottle.  
And the taste seemed to fade...  
When all seemed to fade.  
Cause now death is in a bottle.  
They say I was born on a small farm in Boston.  
They say that a few drops of cyanide, can kill a man.  
But I say a few drops, is just enough.  
To get the job done.