I grab my precious blade,
I find it on my floor,
I'm sick of this life,
And I cant take it no more.
So I grab my blade,
And run it across my skin,
It feels so good, so much relief,
But its a deadly sin.
It goes in and then comes out,
The blood rushed down my arm,
I grab my blade and look down with no doubt,
I put it to my hang and slice my palm.
So you'll find me dead on my floor,
I don't want a funeral or anything,
You stopped caring about me years ago,
And after that my life was turned into a deadly sin.
