The seventeen years have brought me no life
nothing from anything just wasted time...

So there's no passion in our woodwork
And our knots are bleeding true...

My pen has been stuck in the off position
moving across the paper, nothing comes out...

"Our Mother"
My brother, my sister, they couldn't comprehend...

And in the end it's all the same
the beating heart will start to tame...

As I dig this knife into my hip
I slowly start to bite my lip...

Three hours after the accident
They phoned in and gave me the news...

The pain shoots threw our hands
up our arms, gives us cold chills...

A bottomless pit of unstable feelings-
that would be my stomach aching...

All the scars reminded her
of all the times she tried to cut him out...

If I give you my two cents
Why hand it back in disgust...

I searched you out so I could tell
you all about my recent hell...