Pulling out my six-shooter,
Loading it slowly,
The smooth brass is cold in my hand,
And I snap the cylinder in.

Pulling back the hammer,
I wait in silence,
Running my fingers across the trigger guard.
Waiting...waiting...waiting.

The clock strikes midnight.
I can no longer wait,
As I flip the safety off,
Sleek metal barrel shining.

Pointed at my head,
I shut my eyes.
I don't want to watch myself,
As I take my own life.

Remembering back to the day before;
As my drum sticks slipped out of my hands.
I thought something special was there,
But I had wronged everything right, in my own mind.

I left my dreams, my instrumental love.
Newfound friends now drip in tears,
Assembling at my dark funeral.
The man I wanted nowhere to be seen.