When the knife hits the skin
Oh the pain within
The moans aren't alone
They're comforted with raindrops of red
They're puddling onto the floor
Each drop an echoing tap
There's a rhythm now
It has a pulse
Each collective drop , a beat
The sound of death awaiting
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
When the knife hits the skin
Oh the pain within
The moans aren't alone
They're comforted with raindrops of red
They're puddling onto the floor
Each drop an echoing tap
There's a rhythm now
It has a pulse
Each collective drop , a beat
The sound of death awaiting
