Several years ago there was a man,
Who held a rope in his hand.
So many problems he had,
Since he was just a lad.
His future was gone in one jerk,
And what was even worse;
He didn't know how to move ahead;
So in his note it read:
"It was my last resort,
I do give you my word.
I put this rope around my neck;
But I did not choose to be dead.
It was hard to please so many;
Inside so much I had to carry.
I'm a man I will not cry,
But soon I'll have to die.
Please stop me if you can!
This confused man!
I did call to your home,
Because my mind began to roam.
It seems you weren't there,
Or was it you did not care."
This man needed help,
And on his knees, he knelt.
Then he stood on a chair,
Without a single care.
He lowered the noose down to his throat;
And thought about the words he wrote.
Then he tightened it and said his last words.
Thinking...all this was absurd.
All of sudden, he felt so much pain,
But his last words were in vain.
Nobody knew what they could have been;
They weren't there they had not seen.
So when the day turns into night,
And everybody is...out of sight.
A voice is heard...all around.
From where he is...underground.
