The scars are always there
stare back at me, without a care
with there sick, twisted beauty
Calling me names like cutie
trying to lure me in, to play their sick games
with promises of happiness and change
but in the end it all stays the same.

I've been down that road before
It left me broken and sore
But I miss the sweet relief
As once again I fall beneath
below where no one can see, hear, or understand
I feel trapped, as if I've been canned
Its one hundred degrees out, and I've got no fan.

The skins re-torn, been open hundred times before
tonight is bad
The blood runs, away, as far as it can get
dripping off my arm as if it where sweat
The blood and tears finally meet.

I'm sick, and used, I've been spent.