Suicide
Pain, Pressure...

I tell you things
keep it secret...

Everyone has made a mastake
god made a world able to sin...

Her bruised hands
her bruised face...

You call me a lier
you call me a cheat...

Love is a game
just meant to be played...

The world is a cold, dark, dreary place
In this world I have no face...

These nights grow colder
The world, it grows dark...

You are gone to a better place
with roses and white lace...

I keep my paintbrush with me where ever i go
In case I need to cover up...

The pain rushes through my veins like blood,
blackening my soul...

SHEETS OF PAPER COVER UP LIES
AS I SLOWLY DIE...