You hold the razor in your hand,
You try to put it down, but you can't.
So you slide it a little across your leg,
And try to forget what others say.
One turns to two,
And two turns to four.
Next thing you know,
You're laying on the floor.

Now you're crying,
Wishing you could take them away.
Thinking that the scars will never stay.
Willing the clock to unwind,
As you think to yourself,
"This is the last time."