would you care
with just the fact,
that I wouldn't be there.
Would you care
that I�d killed myself,
that I�d slit my wrists,
or cut my throat?
The blood trickling away,
along with my life,
my soul being cut apart,
when I used that knife.
The blood flowed,
like a summer stream,
my head felt fuzzy,
like a vivid dream.
My head thumped,
as the blood flowed round,
I can remember,
lying down.
Then I remember
going into the light,
but it was an operating table,
men in white.
They stitched up my wrists,
and a counsellor came by,
what the hell did she know,
she couldn't ask me why.
I didn't know myself,
but I know I�d do it again,
I�d watch the blood trickle down,
and drip like pouring rain.
I know why I�d end it,
I need to get away,
because I�m such a coward,
it means that I can't stay.
My life has no meaning,
so it must come to an end,
and I�ve just done it,
I�ve slit my wrists again.