The black ink on my paper represents the dark thoughts in my mind.
Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest things to find.
Simple things like where I went wrong in my life.
I don't know what I've done to deserve all this agony and strife.
I've tried my best, thought of others, always put myself last.
But I can never help shedding a tear when I think of my past.
The words, the fists, the broken hearts I've crossed.
My dreams are gone, my faith has passed, all my hope is lost.
Please give me a deal to help me pass gracefully along.
Because now I must be honest, I don't think I can last that long.
