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Tuesday, Thursday, She counted them a lot. Wednesday, Saturday, The ballad of Mona lisa, Is one that should be taught. Friday, Sunday, She never could remember what. This is the ballad of Mona Lisa, A ballad filled with female rage. She hated those that hurt her, Yet she was the main Attraction of pain. Mona Lisa was a confusing girl, Staying up in her room, Crying with her head in a swirl, Her mind gone and so is her heart, Crying over a boy long gone. Tuesday, Thursday, She counted them a lot. Wednesday, Saturday, The ballad of Mona lisa, Is one that should be taught. Friday, Sunday, She never could remember what. Mona Lisa counted the days, Wishing that her life would end, Like the weeks that always seemed to come and go, She wished it was her time that was gone and so, Mona Lisa began to grow hate, Deep in her heart, Her beautiful life changed, She hurt those around her And herself too, Mona Lisa wasn’t so pretty now, More of a ruse. This is the ballad of Mona Lisa, She never thought she would get a song, Though now she’s dead, Because of her deed’s, Killing what she couldn’t believe. Tuesday, Thursday, She counted them a lot. Wednesday, Saturday, The ballad of Mona lisa, Is one that should be taught. Friday, Sunday, She never could remember what. So now our main character rests, Deep inside of earth's crest, Mona Lisa lived a life of sorrow, So remember, Always hate tomorrow.