[Spoken Word]
Look at him, you don't know him that well.
So you won't ever know he's living a secret hell.
Look into his mind, you wouldn't make it out alive.
His thoughts are wild and send shivers down his own spine.
His love burns brighter than any other choice.
Only if only she would listen to his voice.
Its too late now, he had to resign.
You won't know because he plays like he's fine.
He finds pleasure with a knife it makes him feel like a man.
Slicing different designs into the palms of his hands.
Over his body you'll find thirteen hearts carved.
In honor of the girl for whom he once starved.
A starving artist, I guess you could say.
When it passes midnight that may be his last day.
He carries his pills in a box of Tic-Tacs.
And pops them freely with no health facts.
Overdoses, gurney beds, these he is no stranger to.
He thinks it keeps him sane, but he really has no clue.
Light another cigarette, calm him down a bit.
Looking at his reflection he is sick of it.
What are you looking at, he screams in disgust.
Cracks the evil mirror with the throw of a punch.
His mind is getting to him, he can't last long.
He writes down his final thoughts to the tune of a song.
Drops the pencil to the floor, drips some blood on the note.
His intentions clear, he wrapped a rope around his throat.
Took a blade to his left arm, and carved the word "Life".
On the right arm was "Love", and he dropped his knife.
Jumps from the chair and chokes back a gasp.
He spoke no words, only let out a laugh.
The world imprisoned him, he set himself free.
Who will be next, you or me?
Beat: http://www.zshare.net/audio/54665519f80eab40/