I don’t want to see things your way
I’d rather be six feet under the dirt
I don’t want to be okay
Save myself from all of this hurt
Once again, I’m ready to die
Take my breath with a final sigh

Death is a currency that always pays
I don’t want to see tomorrow
I live in the past, the passing days
I don’t know which voice to follow
My own or the ones in my head
Take my breath and leave me for dead

Hanging from the branches of the oak tree
I live, as I die slowly every second
When I am dead, When I am gone, you may see
That the king only sent out this peasant,
To fail at everything that he was put up to
Take my breath, as I have always wanted to do