I'm all out of options,
I'm out of opportunities,
You were a sickness,
And I lacked immunity.

Now no drugs can cure me
Or my love sick heart,
You'll be what killed me;
You'll tear me apart.

Being sick can be nice,
Because people take care of you,
And you can tell who really cares,
And which friends are true.

But as the sickness continues,
Your friends will run thin,
And the only thing that keeps you going,
Is your heart, beating within.

Your heart beats slowly,
It's been weathered and damaged,
Now it's barely pulsing,
All wrapped up and bandaged.

You'll be what kills me,
As I'm near my last breath,
Let that sink in,
And I meet my death.