Escape

When alone at night and nothing seems to be ok
I slide open the wooden drawer and pull out a little tray

Lined with about 10 different knives
All in different sizes

Stained with blood filled with misery
Hardens there in silent mystery

It's like brail on my wrist
Only you can't read it, it's like the pages are ripped

And I think that I'm just a face in the crowd
But I'd rather not say that out loud

They think I'm ok
Because I mean anyone would believe this face

And sometimes I think about the box under the bed
Like if I go too far and feel like staining the whole room red

But the one night I had the guts to put it to my head
I realized, by time I pull the trigger, I'm already dead

And to be my luck, it wasn't loaded
It must have been the worst page in the bible decoded

That night came along again
This time cocked loaded and renamed my best friend

And yeah I pulled the trigger and it didn't hurt a bit
The best fire I'd have ever lit