| 4*11*04 written for my mom |
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Cut these paper wrists of mine.
Don�t ever let my greatness shine.
Bind me to this game of yours.
With no windows,
With no doors.
Knock me down if I should rise.
For it is I, you despise.
You wish it had been me.
I�m sorry I can�t be,
Your perfect little angel.
I�ll never make you proud.
I�ll only cry if I�m allowed.
I�m hanging from a cloud,
The shame I cause you.
Tempt me with the end.
Don�t just sit there and pretend,
Pretend to care.
I�m drowning in a puddle of despair,
Hold my head down.
Push it under.
My red darkness masks my wonder.
Cut these paper wrists of mine.
They say that I am borderline.
Shove these jagged pills down my throat.
That is the ultimate antidote.
I am your scapegoat,
The reason for your problems.
Without me here
To interfere
You�re whole life will reappear.
Let us see if it happens...
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