Benieth these falling bridges I stand,
Closer to the edge with razor at hand,
Born to a world thats filled with sarrow,
Living each day, with no tomarrow.
If living hurts then what of death?
Will I feel pain as I take my last breath?
I can’t hear you scream through the sound of the rain,
Can’t hear your cries, your whimpers of pain.
You are loosing me, My eyes are turning gray.
You stare into my eyes, But I look away.
The skies don’t look so dark anymore…