He lives it better alone,
The slightest noise,
the slightest gesture makes him shake,
Legs so tense that they hurt,
arms shivering, spasmodic hands,
Each minute his thoughts drift away,
The sweat's dripping his pain
Get real and wake up,
don't fuck around, it's Hell to pay!
Get real, wake up, it's Hell to pay!
Not much left to leave behind,
only his sad state of mind,
--------GET OUT OF THIS--------
Not much left to leave behind,
only his sad state of mind,
He knows what he'd surely find in his vicious circle of suicide
He lives it each day at home when he sees the razorblades or medication
He stares right at the sky,
he thinks he'd rather die,
He would like to sink into oblivion,
the hate for life's inside
Get real and wake up,
don't fuck around, it's Hell to pay!
Get real, wake up, it's Hell to pay!
Not much left to leave behind,
only his sad state of mind,
--------GET OUT OF THIS--------
Not much left to leave behind,
only his sad state of mind,
he sees all and he's not blind in this vicious circle of suicide
All in all, elite of the chosen of which he never wanted to be a part of,
He refuses this state of which he comes out a lot more stronger!
He lives it each times he smokes
or he gets a fix which gets him high,
He lives it each time he chokes back
or sheds a child's tear full of distress
Then, just for a moment,
He forgets he wants to die
