How did we get to this fighting,
how did we get to this part...

I could've went down,
in the river to drown...

I've fought and I've clawed,
and I've tried for so long...

It feels like I'm broken,
my chest cut wide open...

I want out of this life,
that's why I'm writing this letter...

It seems like every night while I'm lying in bed,
I lift up another prayer that by morning I'm dead...

When I hear the sirens,
I pray they're for me...

I'm open, I'm hoping,
this isn't the real me...

If life is like a movie, well, I think you should...
that mine is not some funny picture show...

What can I say,
this can't be real...

So, what's the point in holding on,
if you cannot find a reason...

Well, my path was always dark,
and I never had a clue...