The Cemeteries Of The Suicidal Misfits

It's the feeling of a shiny, shiny razorblade
Being dragged along your skin.
The fountain of blood rising
From the equal depth slice you create.
The feeling of fear, terror, shock, worry
That you may have cut too deep,
If you will be ok.
The adrenaline rush of those crucial unknown moments...
It's like feeling high in the misery.
The spike of pain in the numbness..
just everything about the first cut
Is amazing.
The joy it gives...
The sort of kick to get you through the day.
And knowing it can kill you
When it's your time to die

And in the cemeteries of the suicidal misfits
They cry they could live again