He walked alone
down the lonely road
of which nobody had known
She, at a spry 23,
tried to forget all those bad memories which
gave her those bad dreams
He was tortured every night
She ran from every fright
but they both might do it tonight
A melancholy suicide
to rid the painful thoughts inside
One a pill of cyanide,
the other a bullet in his side
They both died
She went quick
He slowly limped, and
wished he knew why
She did it so soon
His legs finally folded
and as he fell,
he stole a glimpse of her cold eyes
and now he knows why
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
He walked alone
down the lonely road
of which nobody had known
She, at a spry 23,
tried to forget all those bad memories which
gave her those bad dreams
He was tortured every night
She ran from every fright
but they both might do it tonight
A melancholy suicide
to rid the painful thoughts inside
One a pill of cyanide,
the other a bullet in his side
They both died
She went quick
He slowly limped, and
wished he knew why
She did it so soon
His legs finally folded
and as he fell,
he stole a glimpse of her cold eyes
and now he knows why
