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.