You were standing at the top of that building
You were holding that knife against your wrist
You were sitting in a corner of your room
You were going to talk to her

What holds you back, pitiful brat?
"I'm scared, I'm scared! I'm not prepared!"
What holds you back, where's your faith at?
"I'm scared, I'm scared! I do not dare!"

You hopelessly started crying
You really wanted to talk to her
You pushed harder against your wrist
You walked further through the edge

What holds you back, pitiful brat?
"I'm scared, I'm scared! I'm not prepared!"
What holds you back, where's your faith at?
"I'm scared, I'm scared! I do not dare!"

You didn't talk to her
But you writed your last note
But your wrist started to bleed
But you jumped off the edge



Ha... Weren't you scared? I thought you didn't dare