In this game there is no winner
There is only sorrow in the razor blades glimmer
But the sting of the flesh is a manageable pain
Unlike the one in my brain
That makes me quake
My hands to shake

But with the blade, my hands become steady
I brace for the slice, I get myself ready
Then I create my art, the flesh is my canvas
Most think this is total madness

But with the pain now in my flesh
For awhile my brain can rest
With the flow
My anguish goes
The thin red lines, allow me to survive another day
It just the price I pay