Sitting alone on his bed,
He held the gun to his head,
dirty walls and spider webs,
What a terrible place to become dead,
Motel 8 has reopened the gates,
The Rogue from hell will soon escape,
To the Kingdom from which he fell,
His fresh young face has lost its tone,
Now he will die all alone.
A friend watches in the dark corner of the room,
With, in hand, a broom,
To sweep up the blood thats spilled,
When he watches his friend get killed.
A Fiend watches in a dark corner of the room.
His fingers tensed,
The tripped was pulled,
All the man's senses,
Ran cold.
Theres a hole in the wall,
The rogue wasn't harmed at all,
And while his friend gawked the man laughed,
"Motel 8 is no place to die,
I won't let hell win this time,
I won't give in to suicide."
The Friend couldn't help it,
He laughed along,
This man... his friend... was so crazed and wrong.
