There is no point, all is dust,
my life will end, as all things must.
No feeling is worth the pain of life,
a pointless waste, filled with strife.
So with this blade I'll end it all
and into peace, I'll finally fall.

My heart bleeds poetry, the way your wrists bleed blood
And so I bled, as my world fell into the mud
Yet I bleed not now, for neither do you,
and you don't care, so you're not going to.
But let it not be said, that I did not try,
I just can't bleed poetry, with a muse that's gone dry

Broken thing, little bird
Still your wings and heed my word
There's always time to fly again
So take a rest my weary friend.

Feel the wind rush through the leaves
Sway gently on the summer breeze
Slow your breath and end your song
My little bird, the day is long.

Oh, baby bird, my little crow
I love you more than you could know
Sleep sweetly, softly, precious one
The night has come, the day is done.