Each and every miserable day,
since you went away,
was filled with all this glorious pain,
you love me is what you say,
all that bullsh*it drives me insane.
so... theres this little game i play,
to help ease the pain,
you cut your wrists; slit your vein,
your mind starts to stray,
as you blood slowly drains.
things begin to turn grey,
because tears fill your eyes and pour down like rain,
and the rain washes the crimson blood away.
