Hannah... |
As that blade glides across your wrists,
You know this is your form of strong...
At last she felt the courage to free herself,
The taps on running cold...
Never did she tell a soul.
About her harmful game...
As you take my hand I feel the warmth,
I know I am safe here with you holding on...
The only thing I have now,
The blades of all assortments...