I think of Razors I think of my Knife I think of blood And how to end my life I think of that pain All vanishing away Letting me escape What reason do I have to stay I think of myself Lying on the floor Surrounded in a pool of blood That’s the end of the war No one wants to die But no one knows how to escape this escapade The thoughts that torment you day by day Night by night they invade 'You don't deserve to live' The problem is ever one of the thoughts is true But every one else is like Oh god, snap out of it, I hate you feeling blue! So I put that knife to my throat I feel the rush of euphoria inside The temptation, death in the palm of my hand But how to allow myself to let go and let the blade slide To leave the ones I love with the pain I once had You carry the pain of hurting them by dying And hurting them when you’re alive And you find yourself in a corner, shaking and crying When will it end? How many more psychs do I see? How many more cuts? Let me go, please agree! Living for someone else Even though it causes me more pain Day by day my hatred for myself grows As I tell him of the blood running down my arm, like tears, like rain I watch my blood flow from my cuts I try to cut the badness out I feel dirty, contaminated, and worthless And I sense in myself is doubt The world has seen this much of me I don’t think I should spare it more I let the knife slip, slit, gone! There I am, surrounded by a pool of my blood, lifeless on the floor!