• He sits on his bed,
    The door shut tight,
    Then picks up the blade,
    Wanting to make it all right.

    The lies and the laughter,
    The mistakes that he's made.
    The sins he's commited,
    He just wants to fade.

    The blade to his wrist,
    Ready to die,
    But for the first time in years,
    A tear falls from his eye.

    He looks down at her pictures,
    Then moves for the blade.
    Now he's torn between peace
    And the promise he made.

    Never to hurt,
    Never to fight.
    He promised to live,
    His life by the light.

    Now he's in darkness,
    Lost in it so.
    The world would be better
    If only he'd go.

    He presses the razor
    Back to his skin.
    Then pulls it across,
    At peace again.

    Blood flows from his wrist
    As he closes his eyes.
    The world becomes bright,
    Just as he dies.