Now I lay me down in bed to plead
visions of torture inside my head
with razor blade dreams- to bleed
in the morning they'll find me dead.
I'll slit my wrists down to the bone
and stain these white sheets with red
they’ll find me cold and still and all alone
from every drop of blood I've bled.
For cutting has been my wretched life
ever since she broke my restless heart
quickly became friends with the knife
for my soul has been sliced apart.
And the way I see it I won't be missed
with the lips of a razor, forever kissed.
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