We’re looking for a four year old girl named Bunny Lake.
I’m looking for my daughter Bunny.
Bunny Lake, my little girl Bunny Lake.
She was already five month old when we got her.
What happened in that first five months was always a mystery to me
I had picked up stories about her real mother
And I had a million morphing images in my head.
But I’d never really know how she was.
She had carried my sister for nine months
And for whatever reason had given her away.
Sometimes I’d babysit for my little sister
While she was sleeping upstairs I’d watch TV.
We’re looking for a four year old girl named Bunny Lake.
I’m looking for my daughter Bunny.
Bunny Lake my little girl Bunny Lake.
I was constantly taken over by paranoid visions
And would imagine how I could save us both if an intruder broke in the house.
Every creak would set me off on wild stories of an attacker entering And wandering around.
I could see him looking at our photographs and sniffing a vow.
I get a carving knife under my pillow.
One time I heard a loud crashing sound
And I stood frozen knife in hand for about an hour.
I imagined the intruder in my sister’s bedroom
And I had to make intricate plans of escape.