I Miss The Want Of Suicide

You were hanging up high,
taking mouthfuls of silly grass
and inhaling the dirty sky,
just waiting for this fu_cking reality to pass.
All the tears rolled down your cheek,
they made a sea of dark and shady fairy tales,
and you tried to swim,
but it was a tough effort, and you were just so weak.
'Cause just like fire you shouldn't play with nails,
they made the world go red, and the lights go dim.

Yes we all know you're hurt,
face down and making out with the dirt.
The screams, echo in an endless facade,
you ran from the sun to get into the shade.,
but Heaven's not exactly your favourite razor blade.
Neither is that other place,
with the nightmares that spit in your face;
cold vomit that doesn't taste like sunshine,
but at least you know it isn't mine.

(So why am I tasting yours?)

Was it something I said,
or the black roses that I put in your bed?
Come to court and confess,
how you made your life a psycho dramatic mess.
And headline news; you lied to escape,
jumping right into the torment of media level rape.
You'll want to scream,
just drown out the need,
wait, slow down, that's too much speed;
or does your heart still want to bleed?

And you beg for more,
like a pathetic, shameful who_re.
But I'm not here to please you,
I only want to see you,
take yourself to the other side,
always saying "I miss the want of suicide".