I get jealous,
by the drop a hat,
i start crying,
tears of remorse,
tears of sadness,
and if i admit it,
it will become real,
this something you always did fcuking feel,
a pool of blood on my wrists,
the next day,
wanting to bleed for good,
if death was a product,
you'd indorse,
maybe even i should,
my eye's wondering,
curious maybe they could take away the pain,
if death was a product,
you'd sell it,
you\'d be the fame,
i reclaim,
my heart,
your soul,
my sanity,
before i place this pistol,
on my head.
