more often than not he's unhappy with life it's not the first time he's thought about using the knife that he's stored in a drawer in the corner of the kitchen wonders if it'll hurt and which is the first wrist he's slitting and there's no one to tell because no one would listen he said it's time that I fell because I'm tired of living so he decided to jump and that no one could stop him he'd climb to the top and drop to the bottom and if not him who'd be the one to die for his troubles if misdeeds are boulders who'd shoulder the rubble and now that you're on the level and you and I see eye to eye we'll turn our voices to the sky and ask a higher power why some say they'd rather die than spend another day on this planet how they're tired of this place and they can't take another minute so tether your craft with a rope to the docks so the weather won't dash your last hope on the rocks No longer could he cope with his utter lack of hope so he filled a sack with stones and tossed it in the boat he rowed out past the break deep into the ocean and tied it to his waist with what seemed like no emotion he heaved his burden overboard into the dark cold waters and you could see the hurting more as his lost look falters a glimpse of a sadness as deep as his grave he'd grown close to madness with the grief and the shame but he'd keep in the pain bottle it all up inside a master of the craft of creating masks to hide behind and he laughs until he's crying almost happy that he's dying so tether your craft with a rope to the docks so the weather won't dash your last hope on the rocks