wanting death is a poison
it takes over selfishly
but all of us in here want it
all of us in here are selfish
pinning for the first dance with the devil
for the first sip of poison

the woman in the bed next to me hears voices
the cackling of the clowns in her face
she tries to sleep and in her dreams she's running towards death

the russian woman in the 34A is screaming for someone to help her
but help her from what?
no one knows
she is pulling her maine of hair out
which was once so pretty when she was a young lady

the boy in the bathroom is trying to throw up lunch like purging will make him more of a person
now he asks me for a breath mint pretending like it's our secret
the next day he took a bite of the poisons apple hoping prince charming will find him one day

I kept begging to turn back time because i didn't belong here
but when I found a girl who's scars matched mine we told stories of the devil's diseased trees
and how laughter become painful noise

we talked of how the wind began to hurt and whisper to us
it would tell us that the only way to escape was to pick the leaves off the trees in the forest of hell

she made me realize death wasn't what i was running from
she made me realize that hell may be at my heels but it doesn't mean that i have to keep running
she made me realize that if i want to i can turn around and look the devil in the eyes and say
you won't be the end of me