It's a futile world that
we're living in, babe.
It's a slow death I'm dying
through living in shame.
It's a broken dream I was sold
in the gutters.
It's the despair in the night time
when I weep for my mother.
The tears that sting me like whips
till I bruise,
broken dreams of tomorrow
choke me like a noose.
And I'm desperate and depressed
and can't fight the pain.
I'm ugly and worn out,
wish somebody would be my *******.
'Cause it's ******* your own when 
you can't stand yourself.
Death seems so sweet when
living is such hell.
Who would catch me and save me
and stop me from falling?
Who would stay by my side
when I  hear the graveyard calling?

Who would hold the bucket while
my blood drips it full?
Because I'm too weak - corroding
as I wait for love like a fool.
Give me your body just
one more time.
Just a little taste for the memory,
a kiss and I'll be fine.
You're the only one who made me
feel like a figure.
Now I'm just a cipher,
my life's a gun and you're the trigger.
So release yourself and end me
and stop me from falling.
Be the one to turn me to ashes
when I hear the graveyard calling.

When the drugs wear off
and the thrill is gone,
you begin to realise
you can only hide from yourself
for so long.
As life patiently breaks you
with each passing second,
and blinds you with fear
until you've lost all direction.
Death is a quiet street when
from a tower you're falling.
When your screams fall on deaf ears and you feel your soul crawling.
All this time it's me
who they've been ignoring.
I'll have to stand on
my own when I hear the
graveyard calling.

"i love what you write for me.
you're so much more
passionate and outgoing
than i am."
he said.
"i think that's our problem.
i try to cover you with
similes and adjectives,
hoping you'll turn into
the person i write about."
i said.