I keep asking for death but I keep waking up.
Sun hasn't shun in here.
Since I dragged the moon inside my room.
Rain never goes away and I've grown to love the beauty of pain.
I broke the glass and tore the window screen.
I'm standing on the edge staring down at dying, dead roses,
growing from the cracks of the concrete floor.
I keep trying to sell my soul but i can't find a client.
Come shove me over the edge.
Watch me float like a feather,
and kiss the pavement.
Save me, I feel so doomed.